A Father For Zach (9 page)

“Yeah.”

“Pretty mother, too.”

A subtle inflection in his sister’s tone raised Nathan’s antennas. “It’s a job, Marci. Nothing more.”

“I didn’t say it was.” She glanced to her right and tipped her head. “Hmm. That’s interesting.”

Checking out her line of sight, Nathan noticed Edith standing in a small cluster of people a dozen yards away. Watching them. When she realized they’d spotted her, she grinned and flapped a hand in their direction.

“What’s interesting?” Nathan didn’t have a clue what Marci’s last comment meant.

“Edith has that look.”

“What look?”

“Her matchmaker mode look.”

He’d heard all about Edith’s penchant for matchmaking from his siblings. But they’d had a lot more contact with her than he had.

“She hardly knows me, Marci. I’m away from the cottage most days at jobs. In my free time, I schlep my painting supplies all over the island and work on new pieces. When I am at the cottage, I keep to myself. And I doubt she knows Catherine at all.”

“That’s never stopped her before. And trust me, she has an uncanny ability to match up people who seem incompatible. Look at me and Christopher. Or Heather and J.C. Talk about unlikely pairings. But things worked out great.” Marci sent Edith another thoughtful glance. “My guess, dear brother, is that she’s set her sights on you.”

“I don’t think so.”

She shrugged. “Have it your way. So are we on for brunch?”

“Yes. I’ll meet you at your car.”

“Okay. I’ll extricate Christopher from Gladys. She always corners him after services to get free medical advice, and he’s too nice to brush her off.”

As Marci set off with a purposeful stride, Nathan once more looked toward Edith. And the thumbs-up she directed his way confirmed his sister’s assessment. She was back in matchmaker mode.

He knew his siblings had tried to discourage her efforts during their courting days. As had Kate MacDonald, according to Heather. But Nathan wasn’t averse to a little assistance in that department. He’d been out of circulation way too long, and his dating skills were beyond rusty.

At the same time, he had a feeling the Lighthouse Lane matchmaker might be off base in his case. Given the trauma
Catherine had endured, it seemed unlikely she could put it far enough behind her to give him a fair chance in the romance department.

But if Edith wanted to put her efforts into pairing them up, he wasn’t going to discourage her. Because despite the odds, he intended to do everything he could to convince Catherine he was a man worth loving. And he’d take all the help he could get to accomplish that goal.

“I
think we did real good today, don’t you, Nathan?”

Tapping down the lid on the paint can, Nathan stifled a smile as he regarded his “helper.” Zach was spattered with white paint from head to foot. Good thing Catherine had dug up a child-size baseball cap for him or she’d have one challenging shampoo job tonight.

“We sure did, champ.” Standing, he propped his fists on his hips, noting in his peripheral vision how Zach imitated his stance. This whole hero-worship thing was new to him—and more than a little scary. It was way too easy to fall off pedestals.

Putting that unsettling thought aside, he surveyed the room, pleased with his progress. Considering he was shoehorning this project in around the other jobs he’d committed to during the week he’d been away, things had shaped up nicely in the past five days.

The walls and ceiling had been repaired, and he’d applied the undercoat. Next week he hoped to finish painting this room and deal with whatever Catherine wanted done
in the two bathrooms. Then he could turn his attention to installing the floor in both rooms. He estimated that would take at least a week.

That part of the project unnerved him. Flooring was expensive, and he had little expertise in that area. But when she’d hired him, Catherine had mentioned she’d installed the same kind of flooring herself in the past and could walk him through it. He was counting on that.

“What do you say we clean up our brushes and call it a day?” Nathan smiled down at Zach.

“Okay.” The boy trotted behind him as he led the way to the bathroom. Turning the water in the sink on full, he washed out his brush. Zach imitated him, working the bristles as best he could with his chubby little fingers.

“Good job. It’s important to get all the paint out, or the brushes will get stiff. That makes it a lot harder to…”

“Zach!”

At Catherine’s alarmed call, Nathan moved to the doorway. She scanned the empty space, her features tightening.

“Where’s Zach?”

“Right here.” Nathan moved aside so she could see him at the sink.

Zach waved and grinned at her, oblivious to the waves of tension rolling off her. “Hi, Mom. We’re cleaning brushes.”

As he went back to work, her shoulders sagged and she ran her fingers through her hair. “I tried calling from the kitchen door. When no one answered, I…I got worried.”

From the hitch in her voice, she’d been a whole lot more than worried, Nathan concluded. But she’d been like this all week. On edge. Hovering. Checking on Zach every few minutes.

Yet she’d kept her distance from him. He and Zach had gone back to eating in the breezeway together when he was there at lunchtime, but Catherine always found an excuse not to join them.

It hurt, but he understood.

He also understood her desire to protect Zach. He’d noticed it the first time he’d seen them, at Marci’s wedding. But it had been amplified since the spaghetti sauce incident. To the point where it was becoming smothering.

He wondered if she realized that.

“We couldn’t hear you call with the water running, Catherine. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. As long as he’s all right.” She rubbed her palms on her jeans and limped toward the bathroom. “I better try to clean him up a little before I let him in the house.”

The sudden ring of his cell phone startled them both, and Catherine jerked as Nathan fished it from his pocket.

“Sorry. Excuse me for a minute.”

With a nod, she continued toward the sink while Nathan withdrew the phone.

“We need to get some of that paint off your hands and face, Zach.”

“I can do it, Mom.” Frustration nipped at Zach’s words.

Turning away from the debate he was sure would ensue, Nathan pushed the talk button and greeted his caller.

“Nathan, it’s Monica Stevens from Blue Water Gallery. I have some good news. I sold the painting of the blond-haired boy about twenty minutes ago.”

For a second, Nathan thought the fresh paint fumes in the room were addling his brain. “I’m sorry…what did you say?”

She chuckled. “The first sale is always special. Congratulations.”

“You mean…someone actually bought it? At that price?”

“My buyer considered it a bargain.”

“Wow.”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she responded. “I told you I had good instincts for spotting talent. Watch for a check in the mail. Are you working on some other things?”

“Yes.”

“Bring them in when they’re finished. I think we can do well together.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.”

As Nathan severed the connection, he tried to breathe. He’d just sold a painting for more money than he’d ever possessed—legally—at one time.

It was amazing.

“Nathan?” At Catherine’s uncertain tone, he turned toward the bathroom. Zach’s face and hands had been scrubbed pink-clean, but she now sported a faint streak of diluted paint on her cheek. “Is everything okay?”

He couldn’t stop the grin that took charge of his lips. “Everything is great.”

“You look like the way I feel on Christmas.” Zach tipped his head and scrunched up his face as he studied Nathan.

“That’s because I feel like it’s Christmas.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his grin under control.

“Are you going to share the good news?” The whisper of a smile tugged at Catherine’s lips.

The invitation was too hard to resist. Besides, this kind of joy was too potent to be held inside. “I just sold my first painting.”

In the silence following his announcement, Catherine gave him a stunned look. “You paint?”

“You know he paints, Mom.” Zach rolled his eyes. “He’s been painting here all day.”

“No, honey. I think he means he paints pictures.” She arched an eyebrow at him, seeking confirmation.

“That’s right. I’ve been sketching for years, but I just started painting. My neighbor put me in touch with the woman who handled her late husband’s work at The Blue Water gallery, and I stopped by last weekend with the two I’d finished, not expecting much. Certainly nothing like this.” He shook his head, still trying to grasp the news. “Maybe it was a fluke.”

“What kind of pictures do you paint, Nathan?” Zach asked.

“The one someone bought today was a little blond boy on a beach. As a matter of fact, he reminded me of you.”

“Honest?” Zach’s chest puffed out.

“Yep.” Nathan picked up a damp rag from the floor. “Well…I better finish cleaning up so I can head home.”

“Are we gonna see you again at church Sunday, Nathan?” Zach asked, his expression hopeful.

“I’ll be there.”

“Come on, Zach. It’s dinnertime.” Catherine placed her hands on her son’s shoulders, putting him between the two of them. The soft smile she gave him warmed a long-cold place in his heart. “Congratulations, Nathan. I’m happy for you.”

She started toward the door, but some irrepressible impulse propelled him forward. “Wait.”

As she hesitated, he closed the distance between them. “You have some paint on your cheek. Let me get it off for you.”

Leaning closer, he gently wiped the white smudge from her smooth skin with the rag.

She didn’t move a muscle. In fact, she hardly seemed to be breathing. And when he looked into her appealing green eyes, mere inches away, he, too, had difficulty convincing his lungs to cooperate.

Sandwiched between them, Zach squirmed. “Did you get it off, Nathan? ’Cause I’m hungry.”

“Yeah.” The word came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat as he backed off.

Catherine maintained eye contact for another moment. He could see the frantic pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat, mirroring the erratic beat of his own heart.

As if jump-starting her lungs, she sucked in a sharp breath. “Come on, Zach. Good night, Nathan.” Without a backward glance, she led the youngster out of the room. A few seconds later, he heard the screen door to the kitchen open and close.

Now it was his turn to breathe.

And worry.

Last week she’d let him go because of his parallels to the man who’d killed her husband.

Maybe this week she’d let him go because she didn’t appreciate him invading her personal space.

He shouldn’t have touched her.

Yet he wasn’t sorry he had. The spontaneous move had given him a chance to notice the barely-there dusting of freckles across her nose. To inhale the sweet scent of her skin. To marvel at the gold flecks in her expressive eyes.

His impulsive gesture had been worth the risk.

If he was lucky, she’d cut him some slack, attribute his rashness to the elation prompted by his news. Keep him on because she needed his help.

And maybe—if he was lucky—before this job was over she’d
want
him around as much as she needed him around.

A few days ago, he wouldn’t have given much credence to that outcome, despite Edith’s successful track record with unlikely pairings. But a few days ago, he would also have laughed if someone had told him a customer would pay that kind of money for one of his paintings.

Today’s sale had convinced him that anything was possible.

Perhaps, God willing, even breaking through the barriers Catherine had erected between them.

She’d forgotten it was Father’s Day.

No surprise there, given all the excitement in her life of late. But her memory lapse was a major misstep. Catherine knew it as soon as the minister launched into his sermon.

Most clerics talked about fathers on this day. They drew parallels between the Heavenly Father and worldly fathers. Hammered home the attributes of a good father. Encouraged fathers to take a more active role in their children’s lives.

This man—Reverend Kaiser, according to the bulletin she’d picked up last week—followed that pattern. He had a slightly different take on the subject, focusing more on family life than fatherhood, but there were plenty of references to moms and dads and kids.

Fortunately, Zach was busy paging through the colorful child’s Bible she always brought for him on Sunday. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the words being spoken from the pulpit.

Good. He didn’t need to be reminded of the loss of his father. Not after the traumatic incident ten days ago. At least things were improving, now that Nathan was back. Zach’s nightmares had begun to recede and his clinginess was dissipating.

She glanced toward the man who’d managed to create a niche for himself in their lives. He was seated a few rows ahead on the other side, wearing a navy-blue jacket over an open-necked white shirt with blue pinstripes. In the weeks he’d been on the island, he’d filled out a little, his physique going from gaunt to trim and toned. He looked really good.

A bevy of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she yanked her gaze away.

Get a grip, Catherine! The man is your employee. Nothing more. You don’t want him to be any more.

Her mind processed the message. Accepted it.

But her heart balked, thanks to that simple, impersonal touch on Friday that had kept her awake for much of the past two nights.

It was ridiculous.

She couldn’t have feelings for Nathan. He was an ex-con. A man who’d engaged in street fights—with knives. And he had the scars to prove it. He’d wielded a gun in a robbery. Aimed it at innocent people. Might have pulled the trigger.

But he also treated her son with kindness—and infinite patience. He didn’t hold grudges when people made mistakes—like firing him. He was a reliable, conscientious employee. He painted pictures of little boys with blond hair.

How did one reconcile such disparate pieces of the same person? It didn’t seem possible for the angry youth Nathan had described to her to turn into a caring, principled man with a steady, strong faith.

Yet the proof of that transformation was sitting a few pews away.

Could Dale Nelson have undergone a similar metamorphosis?

As the name of her husband’s killer echoed in her mind, the glimmer of a headache began to pulse in her temple, and she reached up to massage it.

That was not the kind of question she wanted to contemplate on Father’s Day.

But there it was. And she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to go away.

The more important question, though, was how was she going to deal with it?

Closing her eyes, Catherine tuned out the Father’s Day sermon and did something she hadn’t done in two years. She prayed.

I think I’m going to need some help here, Lord. I wouldn’t ask if I had anyone else to turn to. That’s the truth of it, as You know. But if You’re willing to overlook my motivation for seeking You out, could You send a little guidance and strength my way? Because I think I’m about to embark on an emotional roller-coaster ride. And I’d like to finish it in one piece
.

He didn’t want her to get away.

Shouldering through the congregants ambling out of the church after the service, Nathan did his best to be polite as he forged ahead. But talking to Catherine was his priority, and if he happened to elbow a few people a little too firmly, so be it.

He’d taken a quick peek at her during the Father’s Day–themed sermon, wondering if she was having a rough time with it. Based on her closed eyes and the faint furrows on her brow, he’d assumed she was. He didn’t know what
he could do to mitigate the melancholy memories it must have dredged up, but he knew he had to try.

Mother and son had gone no more than ten feet across the lawn when he emerged from the church, and in a few long strides, he caught up with them. “Good morning.”

At his greeting, they both turned toward him.

“Hi, Nathan.” Zach grinned up at him. “We’re going to Downyflake. Wanna come?”

“I’m sure he has other plans, Zach.” Catherine shifted a few feet away from the surge of people exiting the church, keeping a firm grip on her son’s hand as they moved out of the line of traffic.

Nathan followed her lead. “Thanks for the offer, Zach. But I’m going to lunch with my family today.” At the youngster’s crestfallen expression, he tousled his head. “I bet you’ll enjoy those sugar doughnuts anyway, though. They’re great.”

“Yeah.” Zach’s face brightened.