Desperately Seeking Daddy

Her manner was a little softer with the next few customers, her eyes glistening with a brightness that no one watching her would have taken for tears. She couldn’t have said herself why she had to beat down the impulse to cry. Maybe it was the combination of a new worry and a small kindness. Maybe it was the unending weariness of working two jobs just to keep body and soul together, and maybe it was the vision of a future that was merely the present all over again, never changing—unless it was for the worse.

Jack gritted his teeth, determined not to look at his watch again. It would only tell him what he already knew. She was late—and getting later by the second. He told himself again that she would definitely show. The subject of this conference was her own son, after all. Of course she would come. He looked at his watch.

Thirty-five minutes! Where the devil was that woman? Sleeping in? Sipping an extra cup of coffee? If she didn’t care enough about her boy to expend just this much effort on his behalf, then he was wasting his time trying to help.

It wasn’t his problem, anyway. He couldn’t force her to listen to him. Fact was, he wasn’t even certain what he would have said. Well. So. That was that, then.

He leaned back in his comfortable leather desk chair and expelled a long, cleansing breath. Okay, what now? Might as well do something useful since he was already here. He consulted his calendar, thumbing through the daily pages. The few items on his agenda were either already in the works or simply held no interest for him. Oh, well. He was supposed to be on vacation for the next couple of months, anyway. He’d do something fun, maybe call up some of his old teammates, set up a fishing trip or two, talk about old times. He could even drive down and hang around training camp when that started—except he really didn’t want to. He’d lost his enthusiasm for football even before he’d pulverized his knee.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for a good idea to come to him. He thought of movies he wanted to see and books he wanted to read and letters he ought to write. Problem was, he didn’t want to do any of those things just then. Golf. He’d get out the clubs, rent a cart and make a day of it. All he needed was a partner, someone who could get away on the spur of the moment and hit the links. He picked up the phone and started calling some of the other educators he knew. The three he caught at home, he also woke. He put down the phone with a mutter of disgust, snatched a pencil from the hand-painted cup presented to him at the end of the year by Mrs. Foreman’s first-grade class and began bouncing the eraser on the edge of his desk, tapping out words and phrases in Morse code. When he realized that he was tapping out H-E-L-L-E-R, he threw the pencil at the trash can. It ricocheted off the rim and flew into the corner, the lead breaking off.

Blast that woman! Didn’t she know her kid was hurting for her? Didn’t she realize that Cody could see her struggle, that it scared him? He was a little boy who desperately needed some reassurance. Jack pushed his hands over his face, telling himself that it wasn’t his job to see that the kid had his fears eased. His job was to educate children, not baby-sit them. But just how well could a worried little boy learn?

Jack bit back an oath, the sound coming out as a choked growl, as he launched himself out of his chair and left his office, slamming the door behind him. No woman, he reflected savagely as he strode out of the building and toward his car, was ever more aptly named than Heller Moore.

The place took about five minutes to find. He sat in his car next to the mailbox, which clung to a leaning metal post and bracket by a single screw, and just looked around for several minutes. The house itself, a mobile home sitting up on cement blocks, was small and sagging and rusty in places, but it had a neat, orderly look about it, a certain aura of “home.” The far end sat smack up against the trunk of an old cottonwood tree. A hickory that had been planted too close to a wide side window stood at an odd angle, its upper branches literally lying on top of the structure’s metal roof, while its lower ones jutted out over the rickety stoop. The back of the long, narrow lot was a tangle of woody shrubs and withered cedars. Someone had tied bows to one of the bushes with strips of cloth.

Leaving his car parked at the side of the street, Jack got out and walked hesitantly across the yard to climb a trio of steps to the stoop. He paused, combing his mustache with his fingers, then abruptly sent out a fist and rapped on the door. He heard a muffled voice speaking unintelligible words. It sounded as if Heller Moore might have tied one on the night before. He raised his fist and rocked the door repeatedly in its frame. Suddenly the door swung open and a large brunette with long, stringy hair waved a hand at him before disappearing inside.

Jack stuck his head into the dim interior. “Hello?”

“What do you want?”

The croaking voice came from his left. He looked into a small, open kitchen to his right. A round maple table with a scorched spot, four rail-backed chairs and a painted wooden high chair took up almost all the space, leaving a mere path in front of the L-shaped cabinet and stove. The enamel on the sink was chipped, the countertop faded. An empty plastic milk jug and an open sleeve of crackers sat in the middle of the chipped yellow stove. An assortment of cereal boxes were lined up neatly across the top of a small, ancient, olive green refrigerator. Jack stepped inside and turned in the direction of the voice.

The living area was little more than a wide hall. A worn, brown, Early American-style sofa with small, round, ruffled throw pillows sat against the wide window, over which ugly green vinyl drapes had been parted to allow the sunlight into the room. A small coffee table had been pushed up beneath the window on the opposite wall. Upon it rested a small television with rabbit-ear antennae wrapped in strips of tin foil, a can of wildflowers at its side. A brown, oval, braided rug covered most of the pockmarked linoleum. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn had been tipped on its side, spilling fluffy white puffs of popcorn across the clean brown rug. The fake wood paneling on the walls gleamed with fresh polish. The glass in the windows shone crystal clear. A dark, narrow hall led, presumably, to the bedrooms. It wasn’t much, but it was somehow welcoming.

The brunette was lying in a heap on the couch, her face turned into a pillow. A thin blue blanket was crumpled at her side. She was wearing pink knit shorts which had long ago lost their shape and a huge T-shirt sporting a cartoon character front and back.

Jack cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Heller Moore.”

The brunette rolled over to stare at him. Her face was puffy, her eyes rimmed with smudged mascara. She pushed her lank hair out of her face and said, “She ain’t here.”

Jack’s eyes roamed around the dingy room. “Where is she?”

The brunette sat up and gave a shrug. She looked him over frankly, then smiled. He saw to his surprise that she was considerably younger than he’d assumed. “Who’re you?”

The question irritated him. “Seems to me you should have asked that before you opened the door.”

She shrugged again, unconcerned, and said, “I don’t know where Heller is. She didn’t come home last night.”

Jack felt the taste of acid in his mouth. Why was he surprised and, yes, disappointed? He shook his head. “You tell her Jackson Tyler was here.” He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Extracting a card, he laid it on the arm of the sofa. “You tell her to call first chance she gets, either number. Understand?”

The big girl nodded and picked up the card. “You’re from the school?” she asked, but Jack ignored her, turning back to the open door as a rusty old behemoth of a car bounced up into the yard and came to a halt.

Heller Moore gathered her things and got out from behind the steering wheel. She leaned against the side of the car for a moment, head back as if absorbing the sunshine, then she straightened and walked around the front end of the car. Jack moved into the doorway and lifted his arms above his head, bracing them against the frame. She was at the foot of the stoop before she looked up. Shock and something else registered in her face.

“You!” she exclaimed.

Jack bared his teeth in a smile. Heller Moore had come home, and he meant to give her a welcome she’d never forget.

Chapter Two

Heller shook her head. She should have known she’d find him here. Well, she admired his dedication. Pity she was too tired to tell him so. With a sigh she climbed the steps and endured his glare until he decided to move out of her doorway. She went inside and carefully draped the clothing she’d worn to the store the day before over the back of the chair at the end of the kitchen table. She looked around the room, acutely aware of how small and shabby it must appear in Jack Tyler’s eyes. She grimaced at the sight of the popcorn bowl turned over in the middle of the living room rug.

“Betty!” she scolded disapprovingly as she moved across the floor. She stooped and began cleaning up the mess. “I’ve asked you time and again to pick up after yourself.”

“Sorry,” Betty grumbled. “But it just happened. I knocked over the bowl when I got up to let him in.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have knocked it over if you hadn’t left it sitting in the middle of the floor,” Heller pointed out. She picked up the bowl and started toward the kitchen with it, only to walk straight into Jack Tyler. She bounced off his chest, one hand clutching the popcorn bowl, the other pushing hair out of her face. “Oops. Sorry.” She sidestepped and walked around him. As she carried the bowl into the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, “I’m a walking zombie this morning. My replacement didn’t show up, so I had to work a second shift at the nursing home.”

“Nursing home?” His voice sounded startlingly deep and resonant in such small quarters.

She turned to look up into his face. My, he was big and undeniably handsome. She suddenly felt rumpled and plain in her faded green uniform. She lifted a hand self-consciously to the back of her neck, then scowled. What was wrong with her? She’d decided long ago to let the world take her at face value. What did she care what anyone thought as long as she knew that she was doing her dead-level best? If she looked like something the cat had dragged in, it was because she’d been up all night working in an effort to support her family. She fixed Jack Tyler with a cold glare. “We can’t all be school principals,” she informed him tartly. “Some of us have to make do as convenience store clerks and nurse’s aides.”

To her surprise, his hazel eyes gleamed sympathetically before he looked away. “It must be difficult for you,” he said quietly, “working two jobs.”

Difficult didn’t begin to describe her personal daily grind, but she found herself wanting to reassure him. She shrugged. “I manage.”

She heard the slap of bare feet on the bare linoleum of the hallway floor and looked in that direction just as Cody wandered into view. His ash brown hair stuck up at odd angles. His bare chest looked painfully thin, the knobs of his shoulders protruding awkwardly before dwindling into stringy arms. There was a small hole near the elastic waistband of his threadbare briefs. She watched him knuckle the sleep from his eyes and felt a surge of motherly love. His big, hazel gaze wandered the room briefly before settling on her. He smiled, his eyes lazily moving on. Suddenly, recognition flooded his face.

“Mr. Tyler?”

“Hello, Cody.”

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing impossibly large in his small face. He shot a panicked look at his mother. “Am I in trouble?”

Heller hurried across the room to slide an arm about his narrow shoulders. “No, of course not.” Yet, she didn’t know what Mr. Tyler wanted. She eyed him uneasily. It must be important, for him to visit her twice in less than twenty-four hours, and he had said that it involved Cody. She tightened her embrace, as wary in her way as Cody, when Jackson Tyler walked forward and bent at the waist, his big hand reaching out to cover the top of Cody’s head.

“Must be a shock to wake up and find the principal in your home,” he said, humor softening the tones of his deep voice, “but you don’t have a thing to worry about. I just want to talk to your mom about a certain advertisement you drew.”

Cody’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Really? Oh, boy! I knew it’d work!”

“Now don’t blow things all out of proportion,” Tyler warned gently. “This business isn’t nearly as simple as you seem to think.”

“What business?” Heller asked, puzzled. “What advertisement? What are you talking about?”

Jack Tyler straightened and slid a glance down at Cody, his thick brows lifting. “Didn’t tell her, hmm?”

Cody shook his head. “She’s too selfish suffishenly,” he said with dead certainty.

Tyler chuckled. “Selfish suffish—Ah. I’ll remember that. Self-sufficient types can pose problems.”

Cody grinned, and Jack Tyler winked conspiratorially. Heller folded her arms and began tapping a toe, too exhausted to exercise her patience. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

“Exactly my intention,” Tyler said, glancing around at the small room. He stroked his mustache and seemed to reach a decision. “How does breakfast sound?”

She blinked at him. “Breakfast?”

He nodded. “If you’re going to work two jobs and stay up all night, you ought at least to eat properly. I’ll have you back within the hour, promise.” He made a small gesture in Cody’s direction. “And it’ll give us a chance to talk—in private.”

Heller looked down at Cody’s bright, expectant face. He gazed at Jackson Tyler with an oddly covetous expression. What on earth was going on here? Well, there was only one way to find out. She pushed aside the physical exhaustion and met Jackson Tyler’s gaze with curiosity.

“Just let me brush my hair and wash my face.”

Cody literally jumped into the air, smacking his hands together with glee. “All ri-i-ight!”

Heller placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Don’t wake your brother and sister.”

He ducked his head apologetically, still grinning. “Sorry.”

“And get dressed. It’s not polite to run around the house in your underwear.”

He nodded compliance. She smiled approvingly and tilted his face up for a kiss. He flung his arms around her neck and smacked her noisily on the mouth. She noted that she didn’t have to bend as far as she had only a month or so ago. He was growing up, this first-born son of hers, and much too quickly from her perspective. She wondered what had put that sparkle in his usually solemn eyes and what it had to do with Jackson Tyler.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she promised, her gaze wandering once more to the big man standing in the middle of her small living room. She turned Cody toward the bedroom he shared with his brother and sister and ushered him down the hall, leaving him at the door with a whispered admonishment to be very quiet. He nodded and slipped inside the room.

Heller hurried on down the hallway to the bathroom. Quickly, she tidied herself, her mind whirling with questions. She wished she had time to change clothing, but she knew that would only delay the answers she needed to quell her concerns. Besides, this was a conference, not a date. She only hoped that whatever Jack Tyler had to say would not threaten the sanctity of her family. God knew they were already holding on by a thread.

Jack waited uncomfortably for Heller Moore to return. Taking her to breakfast had been a stroke of genius. Not only could Heller eat a proper meal in a relaxing setting, he could tell her about the advertisement without embarrassing either her or Cody more than necessary. In addition, it might allow him to deal with the situation without disappointing the boy. He’d read the hope and delight in Cody’s sleepy eyes when he’d mentioned the advertisement and had known what the boy was thinking. It did Jack’s ego no harm to think the kid was pleased with the prospect of him as a stepfather, however unlikely the scenario, and he’d realized how embarrassed the boy would be to learn of his mistake—not to mention his mother’s embarrassment at having his foolish scheme revealed in front of another party.

That other party was even then studying him with narrowed, blackened eyes, as if he were a piece of merchandise on a shelf. He curbed his impulse to tell her to mind her own business, and settled for asking a few politely framed questions in the guise of small talk. In short order he learned that she was the baby-sitter, trading her services for a place to sleep on Heller’s couch, meals and a little spending money. Obviously she didn’t put herself out more than she had to, and she hadn’t displayed excellent judgment in letting him in without so much as a glance at his face or a word of explanation.

He was warning her about the dangers of opening the door to a stranger when Heller returned, still wearing the faded uniform but looking a bit revived. He winced inwardly at the scathing words he’d planned for this small, spunky woman who worked two demanding jobs just to keep her family together in this little trailer. Buying her breakfast seemed a mild atonement for jumping to conclusions. He opened the door for her, noting the quirk of her lips as she marked that small courtesy. Was courtesy such a useless commodity in her life then? It seemed so.

She went straight to his car, waiting beside it with a small, wry smile until he opened the door and helped her inside. Thanking him with a nod of her head and that quirk of her lips, she buckled her seat belt. He walked around the car and slid in beside her. His hand fell automatically to the sheet of paper that lay facedown on the seat between them, but she put her head back, closed her eyes and sighed, exhaustion evident in the slump of her shoulders and the slack muscles of her face. He picked up the paper, folded it and slipped it into his shirt pocket. It could wait until she’d eaten.

The local cafe had already seen its morning rush and was enjoying the lull before the bustle of preparing for the lunch crowd. Jack waved at the middle-aged waitress sipping a cup of coffee at a table near the kitchen door. She smiled and got up, making her way toward the booth into which he and Heller Moore settled. Heller pulled a menu from beneath the napkin dispenser, murmuring, “I’m starved.”

“Morning, Jack!”

He smiled at the waitress, another one of those women who worked unbelievably hard for far too little compensation and looked it. How long, he found himself wondering, before Heller’s face and hands began to show the kind of wear and tear that this woman’s did? He found the thought unpleasant.

“Good morning, Liz. This is Mrs. Moore.”

Liz cracked her gum and grinned down at Heller. “Yeah, I know you. You work down at the convenience store, don’t you?”

“That’s right.” Heller returned her smile.

Liz pulled out her pad and pencil, ready to get down to business. “What can I get you?”

Heller studied the menu she’d opened. Jack glanced at Liz. “Coffee and Danish for me.”

Heller snapped the menu closed. “Same.”

He reached over and flipped the menu open again. “Order a decent breakfast. I’ve already had one.”

She couldn’t quite hide her relief and pleasure. “If you insist.”

He winked at Liz as Heller went over the choices again.

“Um, I’ll have the Belgian waffle and coffee,” she decided.

“Bring her an order of sausage links and hash browns with that,” he added, feeling positively expansive.

“Oh, it’s too much,” she protested, but Liz had already received her instructions and was walking away.

“And rush it,” Jack called to the retreating waitress. She flipped an acknowledgment with one hand and stabbed her pencil into the jumble of curls atop her head.

“I’m sorry for standing you up this morning,” Heller apologized after a moment.

Jack nodded and shrugged. “I understand. Circumstances beyond your control.”

“I couldn’t call. They don’t allow us to make personal calls from the nursing home, especially long-distance ones.”

He nodded again and asked a few astute questions about the place where she worked, learning that it was a small, private facility in a neighboring community. She liked the old folks, she said, but it was heavy work. Thankfully, it was only four hours most nights. Four hours after standing on her feet all day at the convenience store, he mused silently. The food arrived in record time. He mentally promised Liz a generous tip as he watched Heller wade in with relish. For a small woman, she could certainly pack it in. Two jobs must require twice the nutrition, Jack mused.

They were enjoying final cups of coffee, the table having been cleared, when he drew the folded paper from his pocket and placed it on the table. “I found this posted on that big bulletin board outside the grocery yesterday,” he said without preamble.

She picked it up, unfolded it and stared at what was revealed. He watched her jaw drop and her face turn hot pink. “Good grief!”

He dropped his gaze to his cup. “It’s quite a good likeness, actually,” he said softly. Then he ratcheted up his gaze. “I’m sure Cody didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

She covered her face with both hands, pushed her hair back and sighed, staring down at the crayon markings on the paper. “He wants to help. He knows it’s difficult, being a single parent. I try not to let him see, but—” Her voice thinned and wobbled. In another moment, tears dripped onto the lined paper.

Jack sat stunned for a moment, his heart turning over in his chest. He hadn’t expected her to cry. That was the last thing he’d expected, and he felt helpless to deal with it. To his disgust, the only thing he could think to do was to take her in his arms and promise her that all would be well. But he couldn’t do that. He hardly knew the woman. He settled for fishing a paper napkin out of the dispenser and thrusting it at her. She took it, sniffed and dried her cheeks.

“You must think I’m an awful mother,” she said directly, lifting tearful eyes.

To his surprise he thought she was utterly beguiling, beautiful and brave. He gave his head an awkward shake, as much to dislodge the thought as to deny hers. “Uh, no. No, it’s obvious you’re doing the best you can in difficult circumstances. I just thought I ought to try to spare you and Cody as much discomfort over this little incident as I could. He wouldn’t realize how dangerous it could be, posting your telephone number publicly, or that you’d feel…well…”

“Mortified ought to about cover it,” she said, shredding a corner of the flimsy napkin. After a pause, she went on. “It’s the divorce.” She laid her hands on the table and moved her head slowly side to side as if trying to find words to explain what she didn’t understand herself.

“Cody’s father was never much good at providing for us, so it’s no surprise that he doesn’t pay his child support. But at least he was there with the children when I had to be away from them.” She sighed and lifted a hand to her forehead. “Then I’d come in from work exhausted, and he’d want his night out on the town, his good time, and we’d argue, which was all the excuse he needed to storm out and drink up every extra cent I could pull together.”

She dropped her hand and smoothed out the napkin, studying it as if it held the secrets to the universe. “It wasn’t the drinking or the carousing I couldn’t stand,” she went on softly. “I didn’t like it, but I could stand it What I couldn’t abide was the infidelity.” Her voice dwindled to a whisper, so that Jack found himself leaning forward to catch every word. “A woman’s self-esteem can’t take very much of that, you know. But Cody wouldn’t understand that. All he knows is that it seemed easier when I wasn’t alone, and for the children perhaps it was.” She sighed again and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”