Apprentice Father (16 page)

A
s the doorbell echoed through the house, Cate checked her watch. Pop had promised to stop by Clay's after lunch and take her and the children out for ice cream, but he was pretty early for that. Unless he was angling for a meal. An affectionate smile teased her lips as she headed for the door.

The older man on the other side was definitely not Pop, however, and her smile faded under his harsh, judgmental scrutiny.

“Who are you?” he demanded in an imperious tone.

“I'm Cate Shepard.” She figured she knew the answer to her next question but asked it anyway. “Who are you?”

“Clayton Adams. The children's grandfather.” He peered over Cate's shoulder.

She turned to find Josh and Emily hovering in the hall doorway, their faces anxious. She gave them a reassuring smile, but their attention was riveted on the unwelcome visitor.

“Do you live here?”

At the man's belligerent question, Cate willed herself to remain calm. Her instincts told her it would be a mistake to let this man intimidate her.

Standing straighter, she did her best to maintain a placid expression and return his look without wavering. “I watch the children during the day.” She kept her inflection pleasant and eased the door toward the closed position. “I'll be happy to tell Clay you stopped by.”

The man gave a dismissive snort. “I didn't come to see him. I came to see the children.”

Cate lowered her voice, but her tone was firm. “I understand there's a court date soon. That might be a better time to visit.”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn't come to steal the children, if that's what you're worried about, missy. I just want to check out the report from that social worker. The picture she painted of Clay didn't sound anything like the rebellious, irresponsible boy I raised. And that character reference from a minister…” He gave another derisive snort. “That's a joke. Clay hasn't darkened the door of a church in years, except for Anne's funeral.”

With great difficulty, Cate held on to her temper. “First of all, Mr. Adams, the report from the social worker is accurate. Clay is one of the most responsible people I've ever met. You can see for yourself he's provided a nice house with a large yard for the children, who are happy and healthy. As for Reverend Richards—feel free to talk with him yourself, if you like. Clay is a well-respected member of the congregation. If you hoped to find any discrepancies in the social worker's report, your trip was wasted.”

“Hmph.” He gave her one more assessing perusal, but held his ground. “Since I drove all the way down here, I don't intend to leave without seeing the children.”

Cate hesitated. She doubted whether the older man would use physical force to take Josh and Emily. Not with a court date three weeks away and matters now in the hands of lawyers and a
judge. What could it hurt to let him in for a few minutes? It might even help. Maybe if he saw how happy the children were, if he realized Clay was serious about his responsibility to them, his attitude might soften. It was probably a long shot, but what did she have to lose?

“We were getting ready to have lunch. Would you like to join us?”

The older man blinked, then squinted as he appraised her.

“There's no hidden agenda, if that's what you're wondering,” Cate told him in a quiet voice.

His features softened infinitesimally. “All right. I'll stay.” As she moved aside, he stepped over the threshold. “Hello, Emily. Hello, Joshua.”

The two children looked to Cate for guidance. She gave them a reassuring smile and placed her hands on their shoulders. “Your grandfather is going to have lunch with us. He drove all the way down from Iowa to visit. Can you say hello to him?”

Emily managed a subdued greeting, but Josh just clung harder to Cate's leg.

“I was about to put the food on the table. Come on into the kitchen.” She directed her comment to Clay's father. Without waiting for a response, she guided the children toward the back of the house. After a few seconds, she heard him following. “Have a seat. I'll set another place.”

As she helped Josh into the booster seat and withdrew another place setting from the utensil drawer, Clay's father remained standing, watching her.

“Are you sure you're capable of taking care of two active, young children?”

A flush warmed her cheeks at his rude question. She couldn't disguise her limp. And despite her adeptness at using her semi-
functional left hand, it did take her longer to perform some chores—like setting the table.

“I've learned to cope with my disabilities,” she said with quiet dignity. “And I have a background in early childhood education. I've been doing this kind of work for ten years, with no complaints.”

It was clear to Cate that Emily had picked up on the critical undertone of their grandfather's remarks, because she tilted her chin in defiance, though fear continued to lurk in her eyes. “Cate's our friend. She takes care of us real good.”

“She makes great cookies. And she reads us stories. And takes us to the park,” Josh chimed in.

Instead of responding, Clay's father sat at the place Cate had set for him.

Cate distributed the plates of food, taking a smaller portion for herself so there would be enough for their unexpected guest. Joining the group at the table, she smiled at Josh.

“I think it's your turn today, sweetie.” She bowed her head, and the children followed suit.

“Thank you, Lord, for this good food Cate cooked,” Josh prayed. “And thank you for sending her to us. And thank you for Uncle Clay, who takes good care of us, too. Amen.” He cast a quick, mutinous look at his grandfather.

Cate did her best to put the children at ease during the meal, but she wasn't surprised when they picked at their food. Her own appetite had vanished, too, in the uncomfortable atmosphere. As well as from the strain of trying to stay one step ahead of the older man, who alternated between throwing out questions and giving the house, the meal, the children and her a critical once-over.

However, Cate didn't think he would be able to find fault with a thing. The house was clean and tidy, and she'd been adding
homey touches. There were curtains at the window in the sunny yellow kitchen, and the children's artwork adorned the refrigerator. A bouquet of fresh flowers from her garden graced the table, and a plaque that read, “Lord, please bless this house in which we dwell” hung on the wall—a gift from Reverend Richards after Clay helped with the pavilion. The lunch was nutritious and filling. The children were well-dressed, their skin had a healthy glow and they had filled out.

Yet it was obvious from the older man's questions that he was intent on finding fault. Cate felt as if she were playing dodge ball as she tried to keep up with his rapid-fire delivery and quick change of subjects.

“Do you go to church?” he asked the children.

At Cate's smile and nod, Emily responded. “Yes. We go every Sunday. That's when I talk to Mommy.”

“After church Uncle Clay takes us out to a restaurant for pancakes,” Josh added.

“Do you ever have any company?” the older man asked them.

“Sometimes Pop comes over.”

“And that lady,” Josh chimed in. “She comes once in a while.”

The man's lips lifted in a humorless, gloating smile. “Does she stay all night?”

“No. She just visits. Once she came when Cate was here. Remember, Cate?”

“Yes. That would be Martha Douglas, the social worker.”

The older man's face fell. But he made a quick recovery. “Your uncle has a busy job. Do you get to see him very much?”

Emily tipped her head and gave him a puzzled look. “Of course. He lives here. We see him all the time. And he fixes breakfast for us every morning.”

“Oatmeal,” Josh supplied.

“And sometimes eggs. Or cereal,” Emily offered. “And he makes dinner for us every night. After that, he plays with us.”

“We went out for ice cream last night,” Josh told him.

“After we play, we have story time. Then we take a bath.”

Josh made a face. “Yeah. Every night.”

“And after the bath we say our prayers and he tucks us in,” Emily concluded.

Though Cate was ready to step in if the questions got out of line, she was content to let the children handle most of them. They were doing fine on their own, painting an admirable—and accurate—picture of Clay. But now and then she added to their responses.

“Clay's job is very demanding, as you noted,” she told his father. “It's not a typical nine-to-five position. To keep up, he often works for two or three hours here after the children go to bed.”

Clayton Adams sent her a disgruntled look. It was clear he wasn't getting the kind of information he wanted.

“How did he find you?”

“At church. Clay asked our pastor to recommend someone. I was between jobs, and he suggested me.”

“What church do you attend?”

Cate told him. “If you're still here on Sunday, you'd be welcome to worship there. You could meet Reverend Richards and some of Clay's friends.”

Before he could respond, the front door opened. Four heads swiveled toward the living room at the sound of Clay's voice.

“I could smell Cate's chocolate chip cookies all the way to my office, so I thought I'd stop by and have my dessert with…”

At the kitchen doorway, Clay came to a dead stop. His smile faded, and his mouth settled into a grim line as he and his father locked gazes. The animosity between the two was almost
tangible, as thick and suffocating as the humidity on a hot July day in Missouri.

By contrast, Clay's voice was icy. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see the children.” His father's tone was no less harsh.

Planting his fists on his hips, Clay glared at the older man. “You weren't invited.”

“I don't need an invitation to see my grandchildren.”

“The court will decide that.”

The children's complexions had paled, and Cate took their hands. “Clay…”

At her warning note, Clay transferred his attention to the children. They had shrunk down in their chairs, eyes wide with anxiety.

Cate watched as he summoned up the facsimile of a smile and circled the table to crouch between them. “I hope you saved me some cookies.”

Josh glanced at the older man and leaned closer to Clay. “We haven't had dessert yet.”

“Then I'm not too late?”

“No. You can have mine. I'm not hungry anymore,” Emily told him.

Clay's smile stayed in place, but it looked painted on. “No chocolate chip cookies?” He smoothed her hair back. “Are you sure you're Emily Montgomery? The girl who ate two whole doughnuts last Sunday after services? And three pancakes after that at the restaurant? That bottomless-pit Emily? Is this really you?”

“It's me.” The ghost of a smile flickered at her lips.

“Are you sure you won't have a cookie with me? I came all the way home from work to have dessert with you, and it's a long walk.”

That elicited a giggle. “You didn't walk. You drove your car.”

“I would have walked if I didn't have a car. Just to be with you guys.” He included Josh in his comment.

The little boy glowed and threw his arms around Clay's neck. Emily leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“We love you, Uncle Clay,” she whispered.

“And I love you back,” he murmured, his voice catching.

The older man on the other side of the table stood abruptly. “I need to be going. Thank you for lunch, Ms. Shepard. Goodbye, Joshua. Goodbye, Emily.”

Clay rose as well, leaving his hands on the children's shoulders.

“Would you like to take some cookies with you?” Cate offered. “It's a long drive.”

“No, thank you. I'll be in town for a couple of days.”

Although his lips thinned, Clay remained silent.

When neither man moved, Cate took the initiative to break the deadlock. Rising, she headed toward the door. “I'll show you out.”

For several moments Clay and his father continued to stare at each other in silence. At last the older man turned and followed her.

“Have a safe trip back,” she offered.

His only response was a curt nod as he exited.

Shutting the door behind him, Cate took several slow breaths. But no relaxation technique she knew was likely to ease the knot in her stomach.

When she returned to the kitchen, Clay had refilled milk glasses and doled out cookies. He sent her a questioning glance, but at the slight shake of her head he waited until the children finished and she sent them out to the yard to play before bringing up his father's visit. Topping off his coffee, he joined her at the table.