FATHER IN TRAINING (12 page)

He knocked on the door, then stepped back a couple of steps. He heard conversation inside,
then
Sandy
called, "Fine,
I'll
get it." Seconds later, the door jerked open and she barked, "Yes? What do you want?" Then her gaze focused on him.

"Hi." He gave her his best smile, the one all the Haynes brothers had mastered. The one that brought women to their knees and made dogs roll over to have their bellies scratched.
Sandy
blinked. A flush stole up from the collar of her faded green cotton shirt. Her mouth parted slightly as if she was having trouble breathing. Her eyes widened and she self-consciously touched her hand to her cheek. Of course, that was
his
interpretation of her actions. For all he knew, she was wondering what it was going to take to get rid of her annoying neighbor. He preferred his version.

She wasn't wearing any makeup. He could see the tiny lines beside her eyes and the faint scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. There was a smudge of dirt on her chin. His gaze traveled lower, to the equally faded green shorts hugging her hips, to her long tanned legs and bare feet. She'd painted her toenails bright pink.

He widened his grin. She leaned against the doorframe and sighed.

"I've spent the last three days up to my neck in boxes," she said. "Blake and Lindsay are
fighting,
Nichole is clinging to me, making it hard to get anything done. I haven't had time to a shower in the last forty-eight hours, there's no milk or bread in the house. This is a really bad time for me, Kyle. I have no power to resist you. So please, just be a gentleman and leave me to fall apart in private."

He wanted to believe she meant what she said, that he really got her to. But he wasn't that lucky.

"I want to take the kids to an early movie and dinner," he said. "We'll pick up milk and bread on the way back and be home by eight. Say yes and I'll get them out of your way."

She stared at him as if he were speaking in a foreign language. "What?"

"I want to take your three children—" he held up the appropriate number of fingers "—to a movie. You know, at a theater. Then dinner." He mimicked eating. "Tonight. In about fifteen minutes. Can they be ready?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"To give you a break. You can unpack in peace, or just relax. Maybe take a long bubble bath." He folded his arms over his chest and tried not to think about his last suggestion. He was going to be in the company of children in a few minutes.

Her gaze narrowed. "What do you want with my children?"

"You make it sound like I want to kidnap them. Trust me." Her skeptical gaze told him trusting wasn't going to come easily to her. "You're the one who said we were friends," he reminded her. "I'm just helping you out."

He watched as she made up her mind. Emotions chased across her face. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "You win. I could use a break. They'll be ready in fifteen minutes." She shut the door,
then
opened it quickly. "Thanks." The suspicion was gone from her green eyes, leaving them wide and bright. "I appreciate this."

"My pleasure."

A half hour later, he parked the car behind the movie theater. Nichole and Blake scrambled out from the back seat. Lindsay sat in the passenger seat. Waiting. For him to come open her door, like this was some date. He closed and locked his door, then slowly walked around the car. He didn't want to encourage her, but he didn't want their evening to get off to a bad start by letting her sit there until she was forced to get out herself. All three kids had been pleased with the thought of getting out of the house and away from the unpacking.

He opened the passenger door. Lindsay gave him what she no doubt thought was her most grown-up smile, then stepped out.

Nichole and Blake were in shorts and clean T-shirts, but Lindsay had put on a white cotton dress. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid and lipstick darkened her mouth. He suspected
Sandy
didn't know about the lipstick, because Lindsay had put it on in the car. He'd tried not to notice and wished he knew what he was going to do about her crush. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but she was starting to make him nervous. He had to watch what he said or did around her so she wouldn't misinterpret his words or actions. It was a pain. If only he could tell Lindsay that he liked her just fine the way she was. Like all of
Sandy
's children, she was a good kid. He suspected Lindsay wouldn't appreciate the comment, so he kept it to himself. Eventually, she would get the message. He hoped it wasn't too painful. He knew what it was like to be rejected by the object of his affection.

As they walked toward the theater, he grabbed Nichole's hand and placed his free arm around Blake's neck, leaving Lindsay to trail behind him. Subtle, Haynes, he told himself. Very subtle.

"You guys know what you want to see?" he asked as they approached the ticket window. There was a cartoon adventure movie starting in a few minutes.

Both Nichole and Blake pointed to that movie poster. Lindsay patted her little sister's head. "They're still such children. We could dump them at the cartoon and go see that one together," she said, pointing at another poster.

He looked at the second poster. It advertised a romantic comedy and showed a couple kissing. Kyle swallowed hard. Even if it hadn't been rated R he still would have refused. The movie wasn't really his kind, so if he had to sit through it, he would want it to be with
Sandy
.

"I want to see the cartoon, too," he said, heading toward the ticket booth. "Three against one. Sorry, Lindsay."

He let go of Blake long enough to pay for the tickets, then led them into the theater. There was a long line at the concession stand. They decided to find seats first. Once that was done, with Lindsay maneuvering to sit next to him, and him maneuvering to avoid that, he sent the girls off to buy the popcorn and sodas.

The theater filled up with parents and their kids. Kyle hadn't been to a children's movie since the holidays, when he'd taken Craig's brood. Sitting there in the noisy theater, he suddenly realized he'd missed the high-pitched conversation and laughter. Kids seemed to enjoy everything more. He watched a little girl carefully walk down the slanted aisle carrying a full bag of popcorn. When she made it to the row her mother had pointed to, she looked up and smiled in triumph.

Several boys chased one another up and down the aisle, but Blake didn't show any interest in the activity around him. He sat silently, staring at his lap. Kyle was surprised that the boy was always so quiet. He and his brothers had been loud enough for a dozen kids, or so their mother had told him. He couldn't remember ever sitting quietly, unless he was sick. Craig's three boys were the same.

"What do you think of the house?" Kyle asked. "It must seem more like home with all your stuff there."

"It's okay."

Blake pushed up his glasses,
then
glanced at Kyle. He wondered if the kid missed his father.

"There are lots of boys in the neighborhood. Have you met any of them yet?"

Blake shook his head and lowered his gaze back to his lap.

"Maybe I could introduce you to them," he offered. Blake shrugged.

Kyle searched his memory for something he'd liked when he was Blake's age. There had to be a way to get the boy to open up. Being this well behaved wasn't natural.

Finally, he settled on the one thing they had in common. "I know it's hard to settle into a new place where everything's different. It probably makes you miss your dad more."

Blake shrugged again and continued to stare at his lap.

"My mom left when I was fifteen," Kyle said. "I had a hell, ah, a difficult time after she was gone. I missed her a lot."

"I've heard that word before. Mom says it's bad, but grown-ups say it all the time."

"Gee, thanks."

Blake gave him a quick smile,
then
the corners of his mouth turned down. "Did your mom die?"

"No. She just walked out."

"Oh. Sometimes people talk about my dad leaving, but I know he's dead. He's not coming back. Ever."

"I'm sorry."

"He didn't like me much." Blake hunched forward as soon as he spoke, as if he regretted the confession.

"Blake, your father loved you." He was sure of it.
Sandy
wouldn't have stood for anything less.

"He was gone a lot."

"Traveling on business?" He wouldn't have thought a professor would need to go away on business too often. Maybe there were big conferences on philosophy. Kyle grimaced. He'd rather be flogged and left out for ant bait than attend a convention where stuffy professors spent days discussing the lofty thoughts of some dead guy.

Blake shook his head. "He'd go surfing or climb a mountain. Sometimes he took Lindsay. She liked to do that stuff with him. Dad got mad when I read too much, or played on the computer. He wanted me to be on a Little League team, but I didn't want to. He took me climbing with him once, but he made fun of me when I got scared."

It was the longest speech he'd heard from Blake. His heart went out to the boy. But none of what he said made sense. Why would Thomas have been so mean to his son? So what if Blake wasn't the outdoor type? That didn't mean he wasn't a good kid. Maybe the boy had misunderstood his father.

He leaned back in his chair and knew he was kidding himself. If Blake thought his father was a selfish jerk, then the man had probably been one to the boy. Kyle knew he and his brothers had figured out what was going on with his parents long before anyone else suspected they knew. Children heard things and sensed the changes in a situation. So why had Thomas acted that way around Blake? Where was
Sandy
in all of this? He couldn't imagine her letting anyone hurt her son.

Kyle leaned close to Blake. "You know, I've never been very good at video games. Is there a trick to it?"

"Yeah." Blake grinned. "You have to practice, and stuff, but there are some secrets. I could show you."

"I'd like that."

The boy stared at him for several seconds,
then
smiled. Kyle ruffled his hair and grinned back.

"Tomorrow?" Blake asked. "I could bring the game by."

"Check with your mom first. If she agrees, that would be great." He glanced over his shoulder and saw the girls heading back, their arms filled with bags of popcorn. "We better give them a hand before they spill everything," he said, standing. Blake giggled. It was, Kyle thought, a very happy sound.

Kyle eased his car to a stop in front of
Sandy
's house. A quick glance at the clock told him it was
8:05
, exactly. Before he figured out how he was going to handle Lindsay getting out of the car, Nichole was pushing against the front seat and ordering her sister to move. Lindsay got out grudgingly. She hadn't been that happy with him since he'd had Blake sit on one side of him and Nichole on the other at the theater. She'd claimed the movie had been juvenile and hadn't spoken in the restaurant afterward or on the way home.

Sandy
stood on the porch. Kyle couldn't read her expression. He got out slowly and grabbed the plastic bag containing the milk and bread they'd picked up, then slammed the door shut and headed toward the stairs. The children crowded ahead of him.

Nichole reached her mother first. "Mommy, Mommy, we had popcorn, then Kyle took us to dinner and I had spaghetti. I didn't spill very much and there was ice cream for dessert, but I was too full." Her red curls danced as she told
Sandy
what had happened. Her small body quivered with excitement. She flung her arms around her mother's waist. "I had the best time, and Lindsay was a brat only part of the time."

"You better watch it," Lindsay warned, glaring at her younger sister.

"I'm glad you had a good time, Nichole. Go on inside,"
Sandy
said, giving her daughter a little push. "Did you have fun, Blake?" she asked as the boy approached.

Blake glanced back at Kyle and grinned. "Yeah." Then he ducked indoors.