Owen's Best Intentions

“You’re good at catching,” Ben said. “I hit Mommy in the head once. She didn’t even cry.”

“I might have.” Owen could imagine Lilah pretending everything was okay. “These balls are heavy and fast.”

“If I practice, they’ll go toward the little pins,” Ben said. “Mommy knows things like that.”

“Mommy’s pretty smart.”

“Smartest ever.” Ben threw one fist in the air.

His four-year-old pride got to Owen. The little boy clearly considered his mom heroic, and his attachment to her touched Owen. He had to make sure Lilah didn’t change her mind about coming to Tennessee because how could he tear these two apart?

“Ben, would you like to visit me at my house?”

“All by myself?” Anxiety pinched his small nose. “Like today?”

“No. Your mom would come with you.”

The little boy tossed another ball that veered unexpectedly to the right, but landed in a chair without injuring anyone.

“Do you have toys?” Ben scrambled over a bench to grab the ball back and tried again. It went straight this time and didn’t gouge a hole in the floor, despite landing with a heavy thud.

“We could take your toys,” Owen said. “And maybe pick up a few more for you to play with while you’re there.”

“You got those chickens and goats, too?”

“And cows. They’re fun to hang out with. But you can only visit the animals when an adult is with you.”

“Adults are big people.”

“And a lot of them live near my house. My mom. My sister and one of my brothers. His name is Chad, and he can play football with you.”

“Football?” Ben’s eyes gleamed as he whispered the word. He looked so happy, he didn’t have to say what he was thinking; but then he looked down, clenching his hands together.

“Do you play football, Ben?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

Owen found it hard to imagine how Lilah could risk her life with Duckpins, and be afraid Ben might get hurt at football.

“If you come visit me with your mom, I can talk to her about football.”

“Football,” Ben said in another reverent whisper.

There it was. The key to Ben’s heart.

Owen scooped the next ball off the return and sent it down the lane, but he wasn’t a whole lot better at Duckpins than his boy, and the ball slid off into the gutter. Ben, clearly a fighter, waited no time to make his next competitive throw. Three more tries, and they’d both managed to head a ball and their scores in the right direction.

“Own, can we have a hot dog to celebrate?”

“A hot dog?”

“They’d make us bowl better. I know.”

He looked so wise, Owen laughed and gave in. Maybe not the most nutritious lunch, but a celebration indeed. The Duckpins kitchen made great hot dogs.

After they ate, they headed to the day care Ben usually attended while his mom worked. The little boy seemed more comfortable with Owen. He said he wanted to introduce him to everyone, and Owen was even more eager to meet the people who’d be caring for his son during working hours when he was back here with Lilah. Because Owen had to face facts. Ben would spend substantial parts of his life back here with Lilah.

They parked in front of a small Federal-style house, but Owen had to ring a doorbell before a woman in a dark blue dress came to let them in. Smiling at Ben, she held the door.

“Ms. Bantry mentioned you’d be dropping by,” she said. “Ben, will you introduce me to your friend?”

“This is Own. He knows my mommy. Own, this lady is in charge of my school.”

“Thanks, little buddy.” She planted her hands on Ben’s shoulders. “I’m Tina Matthews. I run the day care. You’d like to see Ben’s class?”

“Owen Gage.” He shook the woman’s hand. “If you don’t mind.”

“Ms. Bantry explained.” She started down the hall, pulling a set of keys from her pocket. “This house belonged to my great-grandparents. My mother started a school here when I was a child. Sort of homeschooling to an extreme. She had small classes, from K to eighth grade. You know, restrictions and rules are tighter than they used to be, and we’ve had an influx of families with young children, so I reorganized several years ago and turned the school into a day-care center.”

Each room had a half wall of plaster and a half wall of glass, giving a view into the classroom. Lilah would have been drawn to that openness.

“You’ve no doubt noticed Ben has a wide vocabulary for his age.”

“I didn’t actually know that,” Owen said.

“He’s extremely intelligent. This room is his class.” She opened the door. “The children have gone outside to play. You can go out to see them if you want, Ben.”

“You won’t leave, Own?”

“Not without you, buddy.” He zipped Ben’s coat all the way up and tugged his knit cap over his ears.

Grinning, the boy shot through the door at the back of the classroom. Owen undid his own coat.

“Thank you for seeing me, Tina.”

“Not a problem. I understand a parent wants to be sure of his son’s care. Let me tell you about him. Ben can handle some books for young readers. He writes his own name and some basic words. He’s learning addition.”

Owen looked at her. “At four?”

“Nearly five, but we don’t push him. We offer him the opportunity to learn at his own pace.”

“He’s pretty amazing.” The surge of pride surprised him, as if he’d had anything to do with Ben’s bright curiosity. Genetically, yes, but so far, Ben was a product of Lilah’s nurturing.

“He’s a lovable child, and he’s eager to learn. I hope you’ll be able to find a similar type of school for him when he visits your home.”

“So do I.” But he was doubtful. His brother had just dragged the town’s council into the current century long enough to squeeze permission to build a medical clinic. A new day care? Probably not, and he’d never heard of anything this progressive in Bliss.

His conviction to keep Ben in Tennessee wavered. He didn’t want his son to have an inferior education just so they could be together.