Instant Father. Donna Gartshore
them that she was even thinking about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention it, because it seemed like ever since Anna had died, her parents got through their days by keeping things as much the same as they could. To them, change often signaled something negative.
* * *
On Wednesday night, Paul watched Tyson eat his last bite of spaghetti, then immediately leaned in with a washcloth to tackle the orange beard. Tyson yowled and wriggled.
“Quite the performance,” Paul observed dryly. The first time Tyson had reacted that way to getting his face cleaned, he had thought he was hurting him and had felt guilty. Now, he realized it was par for the course for a six-year-old and that Ty would be fine in thirty seconds.
Sure enough, his face clean, Tyson asked nonchalantly, “Where are we going again, Uncle Paul?”
“We’re going to the church. There are some activities there on Wednesday nights that might be fun.”
“What’s activities?”
“Games, I think. Maybe some stories and snacks. There’s a basketball hoop outside.” Paul tried to think of how else to sell the idea to Tyson...or maybe he was trying to sell it to himself. “Your teacher will be there, too, I think.”
“Ms. Connelly?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I like stories,” Tyson mused, “and games, and maybe basketball.”
“See, it will be great!” The enthusiastic tone in Paul’s voice sounded slightly false to his own ears. “Put your plate in the sink, please,” he told Tyson. “And go brush your teeth. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”
Tyson obliged, but then stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “My mom and my dad used to read stories to me. Will you read me stories, Uncle Paul?”
Oh, please, not now...
“What!” Paul feigned exaggerated offense. “What about the continuing saga of ‘Ty the Adventure Boy’? You can’t tell me that there’s a story out there more exciting than that!”
Every night at bedtime, he’d been spinning out tales of a little boy just like Tyson who went on a variety of adventures. So far, Tyson had seemed to love it, but Paul worried that his reprieve was over.
But Tyson didn’t say anything else for the moment. He just turned and ran up the rest of the stairs.
He took the few minutes that Tyson would be gone to rinse off their supper dishes. He still wasn’t quite used to Tyson’s toys and articles of clothing strewn here and there. He preferred his living accommodations to be clean, stark and impersonal. That way nothing felt like home and it was easy to leave when the urge took him.
But you can’t do that anymore, he thought. It was different when he had only himself to worry about, but now he had Tyson to consider, and he would for many years to come. It wasn’t just that Erica had granted him guardianship of Ty. He knew all too well what it felt like to think no one was on your side, and he was determined that Tyson would never have to feel that way. Thankfully, Ty’s teacher felt the same way. He had the primary role in Tyson’s life, but the more people the little boy could count on, the better.
Tyson came back down the stairs with his face pink from what looked to be another scrubbing and his hair slicked back and smelling suspiciously like Paul’s aftershave.
“Got yourself a little spiffed up there, did you, bud?”
Tyson nodded and beamed, while Paul fervently hoped the walk over would help ease some of the overpowering scent.
The church was about a ten-minute walk from his house, and he knew that there was really no good reason why attending on Sundays couldn’t become a regular habit for them. Well, other than the fact that he had lost his desire to attend years ago.
“Will there be kids there that I know?” Tyson asked, and Paul tried to gauge whether there was any apprehension in the question.
“I expect so,” he said. “Ms. Connelly said there usually are. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Tyson considered and nodded.
“Tyson?”
“Yeah, Uncle Paul?”
“The other kids in your class...they’re nice to you, aren’t they?”
“Yup. Except...they all have moms and dads.” Paul watched his nephew struggle to articulate something that no six-year-old should have to. It was difficult enough for an adult to cope with the impact of such a loss.
“It’s okay, Ty,” he said softly, giving the boy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I totally get it.
“And Ms. Connelly is a good teacher?” he asked, after they continued walking. He thought that she was, but he needed to hear Tyson say it.
“Yeah, she’s nice and she’s pretty. Do you think she’s pretty, Uncle Paul?”
He pictured her caring smile and violet eyes. “Yes, she’s pretty.” It caught him off guard how much he meant it.
“She’s not even married,” Tyson added, conversationally. “Hey! Neither are you, Uncle Paul.”
Okay, he had to put a rapid stop to wherever Tyson was going with this.
“As long as she’s a good teacher and you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
At the front door of the church, Tyson hesitated. “If I don’t have fun, we don’t have to stay, right?”
“No, we don’t,” Paul said. “But I hope that you do have fun.” He suddenly felt pressured, like he desperately needed this to work out—for both of them. He had to find his place here in town and get along with people as well as he could, even though he always kept his guard up.
He was growing used to the way Tyson’s bravado ebbed and flowed. But he wished he knew if that was typical of the age or something specific to Tyson’s personality.
There were so many things that he didn’t know.
The first person Paul spotted when they stepped inside was Charlotte. Her appearance surprised him. She looked much less rigid dressed in blue jeans and a navy-blue-and-turquoise plaid shirt, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was smiling at someone, and he suddenly wished that he was the recipient of the smile that brought life and beauty to her face. She didn’t have the kind of beauty that he had noticed right away. But now he wanted to keep looking.
He found himself drawn in her direction, not even sure what he planned to say to her, only knowing he wanted to be within her reassuring orbit. “There’s your teacher,” he murmured to Tyson. “Let’s go say hello.”
They drew closer but just as he was about to get her attention, she called out, “Literacy volunteers for tonight, raise your hands, please!”
Paul stopped and gripped Tyson’s hand.
Charlotte summoned the volunteers forward and began to give them instructions.
“Char, I’m so happy to hear you’re going to apply for overseas missionary work,” Paul heard one of the volunteers say. “I think you’ll be absolutely perfect for it.”
He couldn’t hear Charlotte’s response, and he was only vaguely aware of Tyson tugging at his hand and saying, “C’mon, Uncle Paul, I wanna say hi to Ms. Connelly.”
“She’s busy,” he answered automatically. “Let’s go find something to do.”
While his thoughts whirled around in his head, he stopped Tyson’s protests by steering him toward a table that held juice and cookies.
Why had Charlotte promised that they would work as a team to help Tyson when her plan was to leave town?
He hoped he hadn’t