Take My Hand. Ruth Scofield
to support them. At the time, he’d thought that enough.
“Now I don’t know what to do next,” he admitted, ashamed that he couldn’t seem to find a pathway that worked.
“Parenting is always one step at a time,” she commented. “Nobody learns it in one fell swoop. Besides, I don’t know any perfect parents. All of them make a mistake or two.”
“Yeah, but I…” His pent-up breath pained him as he let it go. “I have to admit I haven’t been around much for the boy. None at all these past years.”
“Why was that?” she asked. Her gentleness in asking the question wiped out whatever sense of intrusion he might normally have felt.
“Seemed easy enough when that’s what his mother wanted.” He shrugged. The excuses he’d used all these years no longer seemed valid, even to himself. “Didn’t see much sense in letting Cliff see us at our worst. Fighting all the time. But if I’d taken more interest, maybe Cliff wouldn’t be such a mess now.”
“James, you couldn’t have prevented all of Cliff’s problems. Even the best of parents can have children with a hyperactivity disorder or some kind of learning disability.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…now the complete evaluation hasn’t yet been done, but I think your son has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder—ADHD. He’s a child who simply can’t pay attention or control his impulses.”
“You mean, he’s not just spoiled?”
Alexis chuckled. “Oh, he’s a bit spoiled, all right. I suspect he’s been given his own way all too often. He does seem to think he’s entitled to indulge his every whim. But it’s not beyond repair.”
“What you’re telling me is…this isn’t all my fault?” A sudden hope sparked his thoughts. He sat straighter and leaned forward.
“Not at all. He simply needs specialized teaching. Direction for studies, specific direction for his social exchanges.”
“Specific directions?” His heart beat with an out-of-sequence ping. What she was telling him made real sense.
“Like how? What…what can I do?”
“For one thing, you can set firm, consistent boundaries for him at home, then stick to them. But…not with spanking, please. There are other disciplines to use. We’ll do the same for him at school. We’ll do our best to teach him to focus on his studies.”
“You think he’ll improve then?”
“I think there’s a one-hundred-percent probability.”
“What else?”
“I think…” She hesitated, tucking her chin in and biting her lip. “I don’t want to step over the line here, James. I’m Cliff’s teacher, not a psychologist.”
“Tell me. Please. I don’t need any of the usual professional jargon.”
“It’s only my opinion.”
“And I asked for it, Alexis.” All at once it didn’t feel at all awkward to address her by her given name. And more to the point, she didn’t seem to notice. He watched the way she pressed her lips together, the way she folded her hands in front of her, teacherlike, making up her mind to say what she honestly thought.
“Have you talked with him, yet, about the loss of his mother?”
That one surprised him. “Not more than a few words. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
Alexis thought about that a moment. “Perhaps that will come later. After he trusts you more. Meanwhile, I think Cliff is in need of lots of love.”
“Love? I love the boy.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. But you need to show him some affection, James.”
“Affection?”
“Hugs. A pat on the back. Show that you care.”
Hugs? Cliff was nine years old. Hugging a boy child of nine seemed— Wasn’t that too old? But he could manage pats on the back, he supposed.
Tina was heading their way with their order.
“I’d bet Cliff would even still welcome a nighttime tuck-in before he sleeps,” Alexis said.
“Tuck him in?” he mumbled. “At nine?” That was really stretching it, but…
“Here you go,” Tina said, putting dishes on the table.
Alexis smiled with an encouragement that lit his heart like a Roman candle. What did he have to lose by trying her methods?
“Uh…time to eat.” He rose and strode over to the video machines. Placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, he murmured next to his ear, then nodded toward their booth. He said nothing when Cliff raced recklessly across the room.
Alexis smiled a welcome for Cliff, nodding to his pancakes. Maybe she’d suggested they have breakfast together as a way of doing her teacher thing, J.D. mused, but they’d covered more ground than just his son’s problems. She acted like a friend.
More than a friend?
An image rose in his mind of a bedtime routine. He wouldn’t mind being tucked into bed himself. If the tucker was Alexis.
It made him smile. A smile that remained as he slipped into the booth.
The quizzical glance she gave him was worth twice the price of breakfast. His smile broadened. Maybe he could get into this teacher-parent thing after all.
Chapter Five
Cliff dug into his backpack, hauling out books, grubby loose papers, a sports magazine and a package of cheese crackers, before he pulled out the envelope Alexis had sent home with him Friday night. Alexis had written a short account of Cliff’s week at school. It was only a slim margin more successful than those first few days.
He flipped it onto her desk, then ambled toward his seat.
“Thank you, Cliff,” Alexis said. A piece of popcorn tumbled from the envelope as she picked it up, making her smile. She pulled out the note. As he’d done twice before, James had responded on the back of the paper.
Funny, how eager she felt to read what had been up to now only a sentence or two.
Ah, progress felt sweet. Even this tiny bit of progress. This was a whole paragraph.
“We had a half-decent weekend,” James wrote. “Cliff came to the shop with me on Saturday. Found him unexpectedly at the top of the high ladder once, looking at the inventory on the top shelf. Followed your advice. Didn’t yell at him. Asked him to tell me what was there, then thanked him for his help. He came down when I asked him to. So far, popcorn seems to do him as a substitute snack to candy. Thanks again, Miss Richmond.”
He’d signed it with his full name.
She rubbed her thumb over the James Dean Sullivan. It summoned a mental image of that half smile and the cocky gleam shooting from his glance. Oh, my! It seemed a long week plus a weekend since their breakfast together.
Beyond that, the thought that some of her suggestions were successful for Cliff and his father was heady stuff. It warmed her heart. Alexis’s initial reaction was to sit and immediately respond. Instead, she called the class to order and began her school day.
Yet the glow from James’s note threaded her whole morning, and by afternoon she wondered if she dare invite James Dean Sullivan and his son to the spring picnic her Bible Study group had on their calendar for the next Sunday afternoon. Her study group mostly consisted of couples, but a few singles like herself attended. The picnic was to be a family affair. Kids of all ages would be there, and hopefully Cliff could find a friend. He sure needed one.
It seemed a very personal