Apprentice Father (3 page)

As the minister concluded his remarks, Clay looked over at the two children beside him. Was he the one who was supposed to give them the chance the minister had talked about?

It was a daunting thought.

Even more daunting was the thought that came next; maybe they had been brought into his life to give
him
one more chance, too.

Now that was a scary concept. It reeked too much of commitment. Of long-term responsibility. The very things he'd spent a lifetime trying to avoid. He'd seen how much damage people could inflict on those they claimed to love, and he'd decided long ago that love wasn't worth the risk. Besides, the demands of his job weren't conducive to having a family. Nor were they compatible with single
parenthood. Surely no one would expect him to change his whole life for two little kids who weren't even his own. Would they?

Maybe.

The answer came unbidden—and unwanted. Prompted, he supposed, by the lack of other options. For if he sent the kids to live with his father, they would never have the chance to lead a normal life.

Tension began to form behind Clay's temples. He didn't normally get headaches. But the last ten days hadn't been anywhere close to normal. And the organist, who seemed intent on banging his or her way through the final hymn at the highest possible volume, wasn't helping.

When the last note mercifully died away, Clay leaned down to guide the children out of the pew. As he did so, the older woman touched his arm.

“They're darling children. So well behaved. Good luck with them.”

Clay acknowledged the woman's encouraging words with a nod. But they didn't begin to solve his child care problem.

As they inched toward the exit, the children's hands tucked in his, it occurred to Clay that the woman might have some suggestions on child care. His step faltered and he turned to scan the crowd, but she'd already disappeared. Too bad. He could have used one more chance with her, he mused, recalling the minister's sermon.

The minister.

Perhaps the preacher might know of someone who could help with the children, Clay speculated. Clergy often had a network of social service resources. Plus, a minister would only recommend someone trustworthy and above reproach. That meant Clay
wouldn't have to worry about checking references. It was worth trying, anyway.

Because he was out of options.

And he was running out of time.

A
s he left the church, Clay spotted the pastor greeting members of the congregation. He stepped aside to wait until the man was free, watching as Emily dug in her pocket and withdrew a plastic bag of cereal.

“I brought these for Josh.” She gave him an uncertain look. “Mommy always put some cereal in her purse for him in case he got hungry at church.”

In the rush of getting them ready, he'd forgotten to feed them, Clay realized with a pang. “That was a good idea. I think we're all hungry. After I talk to the minister, why don't we go out to breakfast?”

“To a restaurant?” Emily's face lit up.

“Yes.”

“Could we get pancakes?”

“Sure.”

“We'd like that. Wouldn't we, Josh?”

The little boy looked up at Clay and gave a slow nod.

“It's a date, then,” Clay promised.

The crowd around the minister began to disperse, and Clay
ushered the children in his direction. As they approached, the man gave them a pleasant smile. “Good morning. I'm Bob Richards. Welcome.”

“Thank you. Clay Adams.” He grasped the man's extended hand.

“I'm happy you could join us this morning.” The pastor transferred his attention to Emily and Josh. “Can I meet these two lovely children?”

“This is my niece and nephew, Emily and Josh.” Clay rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “They just lost their mother…my sister…so they've come to live with me.”

“I'm very sorry.” The man's quiet words were laced with empathy.

Clay acknowledged the expression of sympathy with a nod. “I'd like to ask your advice, if I may. I'm trying to find someone who can come to my apartment and watch the children while I'm at work, just until things settle down and I can make more permanent arrangements. I'm a construction engineer.” He mentioned the manufacturing facility he'd been sent to build. “I'm new in town, and I thought you might be able to direct me to some resources.”

The man's face grew thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, I know someone who's between child care jobs.” He surveyed the people chatting in small groups. “Give me a minute.”

He strode across the lawn, and Clay watched in surprise as he stopped beside a slender woman with blond hair. Her back was to him, but when the minister spoke to her she angled toward him, giving Clay a clear view of her profile. He'd expected the pastor to recommend someone older, not a beautiful young woman. But at this point, he'd hire anyone the man endorsed.

The woman's gaze skimmed his before she resumed her con
versation with the minister. After a bit more discussion, they broke away from the group. Reverend Richards took her arm as they traversed the uneven ground, and Clay discovered the man's gesture was prompted by more than simple courtesy. The woman not only limped, she used a cane. Was she between jobs as the result of an injury? And with such a pronounced limp, how would she be able to keep up with two active children?

Despite his concern about her abilities, Clay was struck again by the woman's delicate beauty. From a distance, he'd guessed her to be in her early twenties. But as they drew close, he realized she was more likely in her thirties.

After performing the introductions, the minister excused himself. “I'll leave you two to discuss the details. But if there's anything else I can do, don't hesitate to call.” He handed Clay a card. “And I hope to see you again soon at services.”

“Thank you.” Clay pocketed the card. “You've been very kind.”

“It's in the job description. For all Christians—not just ministers.” With a wink and a wave, the pastor headed toward another small cluster of congregants.

Cate watched him leave, then turned her attention to Clay. “I understand you're in need of child care on a temporary basis.”

“Yes.” He found himself admiring the way her soft hair framed the perfect oval of her face as well as her clear, emerald-green eyes. “My sister was…she recently passed away, and I'm caring for her children.”

“Did you try the child care centers in town?”

“That didn't work out. I'd be happy to provide more details, but this may not be the best place.” He gave a subtle nod toward Emily and Josh, who were watching the exchange with trepidation.

To his relief, she picked up his cue. “All right. But I'd like to meet the children.” Bending down to their level, she braced
herself on her cane and gave them a sunny smile. “Hi. I'm Cate. Can you tell me your names?”

Emily tightened her grip on Josh's hand. “I'm Emily. This is Josh.”

“I'm very happy to meet you both.”

“Did you hurt your leg?” Emily inspected the cane.

“Emily!” At Clay's sharp rebuke, the little girl flinched and shrank back.

Cate, however, took the question in stride. “I was sick a long time ago, and my leg never got all the way better. Neither did my hand.”

As she lifted her left hand, Clay saw that it had limited function, too.

Casting an uncertain glance at Clay, Emily edged closer to Cate and lowered her voice. “Do they hurt?”

“Not too much anymore. Most days I don't need this.” She indicated the cane. “But I was working in my garden on Friday, and I got a little sore.”

“Mommy had a garden. With roses and 'tunias and ble-ble-gonias.”

“Those are some of my favorites, too.” She turned to Josh, her smile warm and open. “What's your favorite flower?”

As Josh studied Cate, he withdrew his thumb from his mouth.

Clay signaled to her. “He doesn't…”

“Daisies,” Josh interrupted.

Clay stared at him.

“I like those, too.” Cate's smile deepened, and she took Josh's hand in a gentle clasp.

“We're having pancakes for breakfast. At a restaurant,” he told her. “Can you come?”

“Not today. But I'll see you soon.”

With a slight wince, she straightened up. “When would you like to get together?”

She directed her question to Clay, but he was still focused on Josh. The boy had spoken! It was a breakthrough.

Raising his head, Clay regarded Cate. Her physical limitations were obvious. Yet the minister had said she was between child care jobs, so she must be able to handle kids. She was sure handling Emily and Josh like a pro. If she could get Josh to talk, perhaps she could also help erase the haunted look from their eyes. “Would this afternoon be okay?”

“I'm sorry. I always have supper with my family on Sunday afternoon.”

“I hate to impose.” Clay tried not to appear too desperate. “But I'm overseeing a major construction project and I've already missed too much work. I need to get an arrangement in place as soon as possible.”

For a terrifying instant Clay thought she was going to refuse. But to his relief, she relented.

“Okay. I can stop by before I go to supper.” She withdrew a slip of paper and a pen from her purse. “What's your address and phone number?” She jotted it down as he dictated. “I'll come by about one, Mr. Adams.”

“Make it Clay.”

“And I'm Cate.” She bent down to the children again. “I'll see you both later today.”

“Promise?” Josh asked.

“Cross my heart.” Smiling, she tousled his hair and stood to address Clay. “See you later.”

“Thanks again.”

As he watched her walk away, he found himself admiring her lithe figure. But beyond her loveliness, he'd been struck by how
her mere presence had dissipated some of the turmoil that had clenched his stomach into knots since that fateful phone call ten days ago. With Cate in charge of the kids, he had a feeling he'd no longer feel as if his life was spinning out of control.

Taking the children's hands, he guided them back toward his truck. And made a reluctant admission.

Going to church today hadn't been a waste of time after all.

 

Cate double-checked the directions she'd printed from Mapquest. Two more turns and she should be at the apartment complex Clay Adams called home.

She still wasn't quite sure why she'd agreed to meet him today. She didn't believe in working on Sunday. But those two little children, with their big, solemn eyes, had touched her heart. They both needed a hefty dose of TLC.

Nor had she been immune to the desperation in their uncle's eyes.

But those weren't the only reasons she'd waived her no-work-on-Sunday rule, she acknowledged, as she negotiated the final turn before the entrance to his apartment complex. She'd also been drawn to the man himself.

Why, she wasn't sure. With his dark good looks, golden tan and slightly rough-around-the-edges demeanor, he was nothing like the boy-next-door type that usually appealed to her.

Perhaps his generosity had captured her fancy, she speculated as she pulled into a parking space close to Clay's apartment. Though grieving himself, he'd assumed responsibility for his sister's children. And his efforts to find quality care for them suggested he possessed a kind and caring heart. She admired him for that.

But that odd little flutter in her stomach when their gazes had met across the church grounds couldn't be explained away by
mere admiration, she admitted. It had been attraction, pure and simple. Clay Adams might not be her type, but he was handsome in a rugged, bad-boy sort of way that for some reason made her heart race. She wasn't quite comfortable with the notion of working for someone to whom she was attracted. Yet for the sake of those two forlorn children, she could learn to control her reaction to him. She was sure of it.

After setting the brake, she inspected the apartment development. It was well-maintained and landscaped, but there was very little open green space, and no play area, she noted. At least there was a park not far away. If she accepted this job, Cate intended to take the children there often. Their wan appearance suggested they needed fresh air, along with a place to run and play and just be kids.

Opening her car door, Cate swung her legs to the ground and scooted to the edge of the seat. Although she hated to admit it, she'd overdone it in the garden a couple of days ago. Not only had she put extra strain on her leg, she'd pulled a muscle in her back.

Once on her feet, she reached for her cane. In a day or two, she should be able to put that nuisance back in the closet. For now, though, it was a godsend. Especially when she realized Clay's apartment was on the second floor. She could handle steps, but it was slow going even on a good day.

As if on cue, a door on the landing opened. She looked up to find her potential employer watching her.

“I forgot to tell you about the steps,” he called down, his expression troubled.

She smiled. “No problem.”

He hovered at the top, his concern obvious. It was a common reaction, and Cate was used to it. Many people were uncomfortable around those with disabilities, at least in the beginning. And
sometimes forever. She'd been that way herself once, in the days when she'd moved with grace and perfect coordination. She understood his unease. She also knew that the best way to deal with it was to address it head-on.

“Can I help?” Clay offered.

“No, thanks. I'm fine. Just slow today.”

Cate ascended the stairs, steadying herself on her cane once she reached the top. Much to her dismay, her stomach fluttered again as she looked into the intense, dark brown eyes that were fixed on her.

“Steps aren't always easy for me, but I'm very capable of handling the children,” she assured him, striving for a confident tone. “You're seeing me at my worst, thanks to a gardening binge. Most of the time I don't use the cane. I've had years to learn how to manage my disability, and it's never hindered my work. Of course, your concern that Josh and Emily receive the best of care is commendable. I'll be happy to provide some references.”

Warmth crept up Clay's neck. He considered himself to be a pretty tolerant and unbiased guy, but he didn't often come into contact with people who had physical disabilities. And despite the positive spin she'd given his obvious unease by praising his concern for the children's welfare, her graciousness didn't alleviate his chagrin.

“I'm sure Reverend Richards wouldn't have recommended you if you weren't capable.”

“True. But it's best to get any reservations on the table at the beginning. I've learned that people are often curious about my disabilities, and I don't mind talking about them if that will help put your mind at ease.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. He
was
curious. And not just because he was concerned about Cate's
ability to deal with the children. She was a beautiful woman—and far too young to have to rely on a cane. He wanted to know what had happened to her.

“Fourteen years ago, when I was eighteen, I had Guillain-Barre Syndrome.” She answered his question before he could figure out a diplomatic way to ask it. “Are you familiar with that condition?”