Bachelor Father (6 page)

Molly cleared her throat. “Hi, Brett.” She
offered a tentative smile. “How’s it look?”

He stared blankly.

She waved her paint roller. “The room. It’s
starting to look good, isn’t it?”

He looked around the room, giving Molly
another once over in the process. “It’s looking real good.” He
watched her put down the paint roller and climb down the ladder,
thoroughly enjoying every step she took. When she reached the
floor, she turned and stood inches away, looking up at him smiling.
He should say something more about the project, something to keep
them on the right footing here. But his mind had gone
blank.

Jake broke the silence by squeezing between
them. “Hi, Boo,” he said to Molly.

Confusion spread across Molly’s face. She
looked to Brett for help. “Boo?”

Brett laughed as understanding flashed. “He
thinks your name is Blue.”

“Blue?” Molly laughed back. “Makes me sound
like a faithful old hound dog. Good ole Blue.” Her humor faded.
But, hey, hadn’t that always been the case? Dependable Molly.
Everyone’s pal. Maybe it was written somehow on her face in a code
only guys—big and small—could read.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Brett continued to
laugh.

Molly noticed that when he laughed the harsh
planes of his face softened and that single dimple appeared in his
left cheek. He seemed a lot less imposing, even at this close
proximity. She thought about stepping back, putting some space
between her and Brett, but the ladder stopped her. Instead, she
leaned against the ladder, half sitting on one of the steps, and
waited for an explanation.

“Jake pointed to this room when we walked in,”
Brett said. “I thought he was asking what the people were doing. I
told him, they were painting the room blue. He must have been
pointing at you and picked up on the word blue.” Brett crouched
down to Jake’s level and pointed at Molly. “This is
Molly.”

Jake stepped closer and patted Molly’s arm.
“Boo.”

“That’s right,” she said. “My sweatshirt is
blue.”

Jake nodded emphatically and repeated,
“Boo.”

He looked so adorable with his wide grin and
plump rosy cheeks, she wanted to reach out and give him a big hug.
That surprised her. She usually didn’t go all gaga over babies and
small children. She stopped short of touching him, though,
remembering how he shied away from women. Molly didn’t want to
upset him, or Brett.

She leaned closer. “My name is Molly. I’m
Molly, not blue.”

“My Boo,” Jake said as he patted her
leg.

She threw her hands up and laughed. “I guess I
can live with Boo until he figures everything out.”

She pushed off the ladder. Jake had moved to
Brett’s side and wrapped his arms around his leg. Molly found
herself standing very close to Brett again, with no Jake between
them. Brett smiled down at her. His dimple flashed and his
luminescent brown eyes looked expectant. She should say something,
but his smile left her tongue-tied. What was it about this guy that
wiped away all her confidence and professionalism?

Finally, her brain kicked back into gear, “Did
you get my message?”

“Sure did,” he said with that smile that could
melt an ice cap. “It made my day.”

“Brett,” she warned her characteristic caution
creeping in. “Nothing is settled yet. We have to see what the
directors at KCW have to say when they receive your home study
update.”

His eyes darkened, making her wish she could
take her words back. She had such an unwanted talent for putting a
damper on good times.

Molly glanced from Brett’s shadowed face to
Jake’s grinning one. “But this isn’t the time or place to talk
about it.” Searching for a way to sound more positive, she added,
“We can meet sometime next week after I hear from KCW.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

Disappointed that they’d lost the playful
mood, Molly said a little too cheerfully, “For now, we’d better get
you to work. Which detail did you sign up for?”

“I’m supposed to be helping with the
insulation and sheet rocking upstairs.”

“You should check in with Charles. You’ve met
him. He’s over there in the Syracuse jersey.”

“Gotcha.” Brett picked up Jake.

The baby grinned and waved at Molly. “Bye,
Boo.”

“Bye, Jake. Brett, I’ll see you
later?”

Brett nodded again. He took a couple of steps
and stopped dead. After looking around the room, he turned back to
Molly with a frown and stated the obvious. “I don’t see any other
kids.”

Molly pursed her lips to stop herself from
laughing. “A group of the Thayer teens are watching the smaller
children in the room off to the right of the foyer. After you get
your assignment from Charles, you can check Jake in with the
baby-sitters.”

As Molly watched him continue across the room,
she couldn’t help but give him a good once over. Hey, fair’s, fair.
She went back to her ladder and paint whistling to herself. A few
minutes later, Molly reached her full arm’s length to catch a spot
on the wall she’d missed. The ladder lurched. Looking down to see
if she’d placed the ladder on something that had made the footing
uneven, she saw a little round face grinning up at her.

“Hi, Boo.” Jake had climbed on the first step
of the ladder. Apparently, the baby-sitters weren’t doing such a
good job.

“Hi, Jake. She shook her head and smiled back.
“You have to climb down and let me down. I don’t want to
fall.”

He didn’t move.

“Down, sweetie.” She pointed to the
floor.

His eyes lit with understanding. “Down.” He
climbed to the floor. “My Boo, down.”

“I’m coming.” Molly climbed down the ladder. A
girl of about fourteen rushed over.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “He’s so quick. I
was reading the little kids a story and all of a sudden he was
gone. I came after him as soon as I noticed. I don’t want to get in
trouble.”

Molly recognized the teen as one of Charles’
“kids,” a girl who had recently been placed with Thayer House
because of suspected abuse by one of her mother’s male friends. Her
crestfallen expression tore at Molly’s heart. She knew all too well
the feeling of trying hard to win the love and approval of those
around her. She’d done it often enough herself as a
child.

“He’s quick, all right.” Molly patted the girl
on the shoulder. “Let’s take him back and I’ll assure Charles that
everything is fine. He’s a good friend of mine.”

Relief spread across the girl’s face. Molly
motioned for her to pick Jake up. She did and Jake let out with an
ear-splitting howl. Molly feared the girl would burst into tears,
as well.

“Stay, Boo,” Jake screamed. “My
Boo.”

Molly took Jake from the girl and he stopped
his howling, but not the tears. “I’ll watch him. You go on back to
the other kids,” she said to the girl. “It’s okay.”

“Whatever,” the girl said, making Molly wonder
if she could have handled the situation better.

Jake sniffled and hiccupped. “Where Unca? Jake
help Unca.”

Upstairs, Brett and other volunteers were
ripping out old plaster walls, putting in insulation, and
installing sheet rock. Not a good place for a curious
toddler.

Molly put Jake down and got him a paintbrush
from her paint tray. She dipped it in paint, and taking his hand in
hers, moved the brush up and down on the wall, marveling at how his
tiny hand made hers seemed large in comparison, and she had small
hands.

Feeling Jake’s little hand in hers brought
evoked a memory of her mother’s hand covering hers, showing her
“the right way” to play the piano. Molly had never done well enough
at her music lessons to please her mother. Picking up her paint
roller, she shook her head. Being around these kids brought up too
many thoughts she’d rather forget.

Jake swiped the brush across the wall until
the paint ran out. Then, he discovered the paint tray. Molly bent
to refresh her paint roller and received a splash of paint in the
face as Jake slapped the paint in the tray with his brush. Light
blue paint speckles covered his denim overalls.

“Pay.” He smacked the tray.

“Yes, paint,” she said, taking the brush from
him. She could see she wasn’t going to get any work done with Jake
“helping” her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and go see what your
Uncle Brett’s doing.”  A quick wipe with a damp cloth took
care of most of the paint. She took his hand in hers. “Come
on.” 

The quizzical look on Jake’s face told Molly
he didn’t understand. Maybe she’d spoken too quickly for
him.

Jake stood fast, his lower lip thrust out.
“No, pay.” He stomped his foot.

“No, sweetie, we’re going to go upstairs and
watch Uncle Brett work. Come on.” She took his hand in hers, but he
didn’t budge. Molly preferred not to pick him up and get herself
covered with paint. She dropped his hand and tried to reason with
Jake. “Upstairs to watch Brett.” She pointed to the circular
stairway.

Suddenly, Jake’s face brightened. “Unca,
up.”  He grabbed Molly’s hand and started pulling her to the
stairway.

“Wait a second. We’ve got to get you cleaned
up first.” She took a quick detour to the kitchen and scrubbed the
paint off Jake’s hands and face, then stopped to explain the
situation to Charles before she and Jake headed
upstairs.

When they hit the top of the stairs, Jake
tried to pull away. Chunks of plaster and nails littered the floor
of the big square hall.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m keeping a firm grip on
you.” She squeezed his little hand.

Molly smiled “hi” to the two men working in
the hall before peeking in the first room for Brett. She found him
working alone amidst a cloud of plaster dust. He’d removed his
flannel shirt. The white dust covered his hair and black T-shirt,
turning both to gray. Alternative rock blared from a radio on the
floor.

Brett slammed the claw of the hammer into the
plaster in time with the hard beat of the music, until he had
opened a good size hole. He slipped the hammer into his tool belt.
His damp shirt clung to him defining the ripple of muscles as he
gripped the edge of the hole he’d created and tore out a large
piece of wall. Molly watched in fascination.

“Unca!” Jake pulled his hand from hers and ran
toward Brett. Startled, Brett dropped the chunk of plaster. He gave
Molly a half smile before scooping Jake up.

“Quick, isn’t he?” Brett asked.

“I’m sorry,” Molly stammered. Great! She
sounded just like the teen who’d apologized to her for letting Jake
get away from the supervised children’s group.

“Like I said, he’s a quick little bugger.
How’d you end up with him?”

“He wandered away from the children’s group
and—

“Wasn’t someone watching him?” Brett
demanded.

“The girl watching him wasn’t at fault,” she
replied a trifle defensively. He didn’t like the children’s group.
Most of the other kids were older.”

At Brett’s dark look, she hurried on,
concerned that he’d taken what she’d just said as a criticism of
him bringing Jake. “I let him stay with me and paint, until he got
more paint on himself than on the wall.”

“My Boo pay,” Jake said in
agreement.

Brett looked at Jake’s paint spattered
overalls and laughed. “I guess you did paint, Bud.” He turned to
Molly. “I’m almost done here. I should finish and get Jake home for
his lunch and afternoon nap.”

For some reason, Molly was surprised at
Brett’s concern for getting Jake home, fed, and in for his nap. She
chided herself. She shouldn’t be. But there was something
incongruous in her mind about this forceful, very masculine man
arranging his time around a baby.

“I’ll take Jake so you can finish. We’ll sit
over on the other side of the room out of your way and maybe play a
couple of rounds of patty-cake.”

Jake clapped his pudgy hands at the words
patty-cake.

Laughing, Molly reached to take Jake from
Brett. His little round face started to crumple. Acting
instinctively, Molly rubbed noses with Jake until he started
giggling. For someone who didn’t have much experience with
toddlers, she was learning fast.

Brett gave her an approving smile and went
back to work, flexing his biceps—on purpose, she’d swear—when he
pulled the hammer from his toolbelt. With a loud crash, he tore the
last of the plaster from the wall. Wiping his brow with a bandanna,
he crossed the room to Molly and Jake. He stuffed the bandanna in
the back pocket of his jeans and stood towering over her. “I’m all
done.”

I know. I’ve been watching your
every move
, Molly thought, fanning
herself.
The day must be warming up if the
heat in this room was any indication
.

Starting to reply, she sneezed twice quickly,
instead. “It must be the dust,” she said, trying not to sniffle.
She searched her sweatshirt pocket unsuccessfully for a tissue and
sneezed again.