Right from the Start (16 page)

Summer camp had been a gift from Deanne, as she’d arranged to
get Sam into the program. She sat on the board to oversee the autism program and
had promised Will Sam would not only be well cared for but would have a great
time. Will took her at her word and was grateful for this new experience. He
hadn’t been away from Sam overnight since Melinda had left home, long before the
divorce.

He received a nightly phone call to report on Sam’s activities
during the day, and so far so good. In the meantime, Will had been putting the
extra hours to use.

Maneuvering through the narrow passage, he attempted to be
quiet when replacing the tiles. Not always possible with decades-old ceiling
tiles that had frequently melded onto the framework. In one area, he had to cut
away the frame entirely, so the work was slow going.

But as he made his way across the span of the classroom,
Kenzie’s voice grew ever clearer with each tile he replaced until finally he
could make out what she was saying.

“Once the divorce is finalized, your former spouse becomes your
parenting partner. Successfully parenting together after a divorce means
respecting each other’s boundaries.”

Boundaries, hmm? Could Melinda respect his boundaries when he
wasn’t even sure what they were? Will didn’t know. He couldn’t remember hearing
anything about boundaries when he’d sat through this class. Yet he’d put in his
time and money to get the paperwork he needed to finalize the divorce.

But Will liked the sound of Kenzie’s voice and found himself
listening. He wasn’t so much paying attention to what she said as he was being
lured into the gentle cadence of her voice, a soft-spoken elocution that enticed
like a drug.

But he did catch some things that made sense.

“You must appreciate another person’s strengths and recognize
their limitations,” she was saying. “This is absolutely essential because once
you choose to identify your parenting partner’s behavior you can also choose how
to react when situations invariably come up.”

Wedging a screwdriver into the dry panel, he pried it loose
from the grid. A shower of crunchy particles sprinkled down over the newly
refinished plank floor. One more mess to clean.

“What idiot thought a drop ceiling was a good idea for this old
building?” he whispered on the edge of a breath.

But Will already knew the answer. There had been a renovation
done decades ago. Probably in the early seventies from the looks of the
materials. The drop ceiling would have been a quick fix to cover the HVAC
ductwork and wiring from the sprinkler system. Of course, they’d sacrificed the
magnificent height in the room for the benefit of the plenum space. The crown
molding was still intact. Good thing Kenzie hadn’t seen it or she would have
asked him if it was possible to rip down all the grids so she could have soaring
ceilings again.

Of course, the first floor didn’t have this access. He’d have
to check Kenzie’s class schedule so he could get into those rooms to remove the
panels from the other side.

“Use this situation as an example,” she was saying. “Your child
has an after-school program he needs to arrive at promptly on time. But it’s
your parenting partner’s visitation day and he works a job that makes it hard to
pinpoint exactly when he can leave work. Maybe he’s a dentist and leaving
depends on when he finishes up his last patient. Or an attorney who’s in the
courtroom and can’t leave until the judge dismisses.”

No doubt Nathanial inspired that example. Will tugged so hard
the panel snapped off a corner, sending another spray of dry fiber raining
down.

“You can rely on your parenting partner to do something that’s
problematic. This will likely introduce tension into the situation because if he
runs late, there’s going to be fallout. Your child is going to be upset that he
missed out on his program. He’s likely to be disappointed in the parent who’s
responsible for making him miss his program. The parent who ran late will likely
feel inadequate because he disappointed his child and defensive around you
because he didn’t live up to his end of the bargain. You’ll probably wind up
feeling hurt for your child and resentful toward your parenting partner for not
arriving on time. I mean, picking up your child from school on time. Is that
really so much to ask? In one word—
tension.
”

There was a pause before she continued. “Successful parenting
partners respect limitations. A productive way to handle that situation might be
to acknowledge your parenting partner will have a problem picking up your child
on time. You could offer to get him to his program and swap the pickup
responsibilities for another day when the schedule’s more fluid. Now your child
gets where he needs to be on time and is happy. Your parenting partner still
gets quality drive time with his child and doesn’t feel as if he’s shirking his
responsibility or that you’re controlling the situation. You feel as if you have
a partner to rely upon with the parenting responsibilities who will return the
favor when you need him to. See the difference? We’ve eliminated the tension.
Yes, question.”

“What happens when your parenting partner won’t parent
productively?” a woman asked. “You offer to pick your child up, but he refuses
then doesn’t show up at all.”

Deadbeat dad. Will knew about those.

“In that situation you might place yourself on standby,” Kenzie
suggested. “So if your parenting partner doesn’t show, then you can step
in.”

“But if he knows I’ll always step in and pick up his slack,
then he’ll never be responsible.”

“That’s quite possible,” Kenzie agreed.

“Then wouldn’t it be better not to step in and let him deal
with the consequences of his actions with our son?”

“It may be. You’re in the best position to answer that
question,” Kenzie said. “But I’d suggest asking yourself whether your goal is
attempting to get your former spouse to become an effective parenting partner or
to get your son to his after-school program.”

The mom with the deadbeat ex gave a brittle laugh. “My ex isn’t
capable of being an effective parenting anything.”

“Sounds as if it’s even more important for you to be the
responsible parent, then.”

“I want to know how it’s fair for me to be constantly picking
up his slack with our son?”

Will wanted to know that, too.

“I didn’t say it was fair,” Kenzie said matter-of-factly. “But
if we reproduced with an irresponsible partner then all we can do is deal with
the situation. This is when adults step back to look at what’s best for their
children. If one parent chooses to act irresponsibly, then the responsibility
falls on the other parent to balance the situation as best they can.”

That made Will smile. Kenzie’s calm-voiced delivery had a way
of softening the edges of even a brutal truth. He couldn’t help but wonder what
the woman with the deadbeat ex thought of that no-nonsense response.

Especially when Kenzie added, “The situation may not be fair,
but at least you had a choice. You chose your former spouse. Your child didn’t
get to choose either of his parents, but he’s dependent on you both to provide
what he needs. If that means you run interference and conduct damage control, so
be it. It’s our jobs to teach our children coping skills so they learn to deal
constructively with all the unfair situations that invariably come up in
life.”

Will exhaled a low whistle. Kenzie did not mince words, but she
did effectively shut down that discussion and move on to address her next topic.
And as he continued removing panels from the grid, chiseling away the crusty
remains from the T-bars so the new panel fit in snugly, he considered what
Kenzie had said.

She might not have sugarcoated her opinion, but her response
was both simple and true. Will’s own mother had been in a similar situation, and
she’d responded much in the way Kenzie had suggested. As a responsible parent
who put the interests of her sons first and foremost. She hadn’t been able to
effect a change with Will’s deadbeat dad, but she did populate her sons’ world
with some good male role models from her own father and brothers to friends like
Bob.

Will and his younger brothers had learned to fish with their
grandfather and to hunt with Uncle Jeremy and train for marathons with Uncle
Brent. Bob had given Will a career by teaching him how to fix things around the
house. With Mom working two jobs most of the time, they’d hated spending money
unnecessarily. Bob had always made himself available. Replacing faucets and
bathroom fixtures. Replacing the hot water heater. Caulking leaking windows.
Fixing the washing machine.

If Bob could fix it, he did. Otherwise, he always knew someone
who could for a fair price. And he’d always enlisted Will’s help, since he was
the man of the family.

Now that Will thought about it, he suspected Bob had been
giving Will responsibility to empower him, one of those coping skills Kenzie had
mentioned.

He worked automatically and was so entrenched in his thoughts
that he barely noticed crawling past the wall dividing one room from the next.
He’d already pried up a panel before realizing he was over Kenzie’s
classroom.

He only realized his error because the sight of her jarred him
into the moment.

She stared up at him through the open grid, green-gold eyes
twinkling with barely concealed amusement, and said, “Hello.”

The three weeks that had passed since he’d seen her suddenly
felt like a lifetime. She wore her hair up with tendrils escaping to wisp around
her slender neck, the delicate line of her jaw at total odds with the
no-nonsense practicality pouring out of her mouth.

He’d seen her in jeans and business casual but tonight she’d
traded the flowy skirts for a fitted one that ended above the knee and revealed
long, shapely legs and skin as creamy as her face.

“Hello,” he finally managed to respond, realizing he needed to
conduct some damage control of his own. “Sorry to disturb you.”

The amusement retreated behind that familiar distant
expression, as if she’d suddenly shut the window and pulled down the blinds. She
set the marker she held onto the tray of the dry-erase board, folded her arms
over her chest and waited.

For him to disappear again?

Instead, Will leaned through the empty grid, hanging on to the
catwalk support and hoping like hell it held his weight so he didn’t land on his
head and really disturb the class.

“I apologize, folks.” Will waved at everyone.

“No sweat, man,” a young guy said from the back of the room. He
couldn’t have been much older than Will had been the first time he’d gotten
married. “Court-ordered class.”

That said everything that needed saying.

“Hey, aren’t you that politician?” a woman asked, not
specifying exactly which politician she meant. She wore a familiar uniform from
a local grocery store. “I voted for you.”

“Appreciate it.” Will flashed her a smile. He certainly hadn’t
intended to be seen, especially since he was up here dressed in jeans, sweating
because he was roasting his ass off up in the attic crawl space. “Always good to
meet voters. Can’t make solid decisions for our city unless you share what’s on
your mind.”

“When are you going to fix the potholes on my street?” A
middle-aged man gave a gruff laugh.

Will had faced that question before. It was a campaign classic.
“What part of town?”

“East end.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Not on this year’s schedule. But if
it’s a big street, you can call Public Works. As long as the city maintains your
street, they’ll fix it.”

“Who else would maintain my street?” the gruff guy asked.

Will shook his head. “Could be the state or privately owned.
There’s a map on the Public Works website. Check it out if you’re not sure. The
City of Hendersonville prides itself on its street maintenance. Think we fixed
something like twelve hundred potholes last year.”

“Think they missed one.” The gruff old guy gave a snort. “What
happens if my street isn’t city maintained?”

“You’re going to spend some bucks balancing and aligning your
car,” the young guy offered.

“No joke,” the old guy replied.

“Public Works will report it to the North Carolina Department
of Transportation. Then it’s up to them.” Will grinned. “Remember that the next
time you’re driving around craters on North Church Street or MLK.”

“Who maintains Main Street?” Kenzie asked.

Will shifted around to face her again, and raked his gaze over
the sight she made half sitting on the desk with her arms folded over her chest.
The skirt fitted her body so he could see the curve of her hip and the long line
of her thigh. Her pose showed off those curvy bits that were usually hidden. He
realized that the blood rushing to his head from hanging here was making him so
stupid.

“The city.”

She inclined her head, sending those wispy red strands waving
around her cheeks and neck. “Good to know.”

Then she met his gaze with those big, gold-flecked eyes and
asked deadpan, “Done hijacking the class yet?”

Will didn’t bother with a reply. “Time to go, folks. Don’t
forget to vote in the next election. It’s important.”

Then he pulled himself up through the grid and backed away as
quietly as possible. Once he was safely out of sight, Will sat back, balancing
himself on the narrow catwalk and wiping the sweat from his brow.

He stared blankly into the dim crawl space, wishing he had a
rewind button. If he didn’t want more complications in his life, then why had he
just made an absolute idiot of himself?

That answer came as easily as it was surprising.

Despite having a young son, too many jobs and not enough hours
in the day, he was still a man. Wow. Imagine that.

* * *

K
ENZIE
SHOWED
THE
last of the students out the side door to the parking lot.