Unexpected Father

Jordan grinned, amused by the whole idea of Esther orchestrating a romance.

“It’s time you thought about settling down,” Esther told him. “And Lord knows I’ve broken my neck checking out possibilities for you. Don’t you grin at me, Jake McClennon,” she said ominously, catching him before he ducked his head to his burger. “I got you married now, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Esther,” Jake said dutifully, still trying to hide his grin. “Though I can’t quite recall exactly how you got Laura and me together.”

Esther harrumphed. “Of course not. I ain’t obvious when it comes to affairs of the heart, so to speak. I took your problem to St. Jude, and he took care of the details.”

“St. Jude?” Hannah asked, realizing she’d opened a whole new can of worms when the men around her groaned.

“The patron saint of hopeless causes,” Esther informed her, shooting a dark look at each man in turn. “And, believe me, those McClennon boys were certainly hopeless causes when it came to marriage.” She brushed crumbs from her skirt like a duchess smoothing a fine swath of silk. “But I got my St. Jude statue, and he’s done come through for me many a time.”

“It’s more like a concrete elf she keeps behind the diner,” Jordan informed her in a low voice.

“I heard that!” Esther snorted. “And I don’t care what he looks like, he’s my St. Jude and he knows me!” Her eyes took in each member of the group, stopping on Jordan.

“I surrender,” Jordan said immediately, throwing his hands into the air as his brothers and Ronnie laughed. “When is St. Jude’s next miracle?”

Esther narrowed her eyes, looking from Jordan to Hannah until Hannah felt the heat climbing her neck.

“Maybe sooner than you think,” Esther said with satisfaction. “Could be you’re the next one on his list, Jordan. Might want to start pricing fancy suits for your wedding.”

“Not Jordan,” John said with conviction. “The day he gets married is the day I’ll dance naked around that St. Jude statue.”

Over the laughter Jake said, “And I’ll play the kazoo while he does it.”

Esther raised her brows. “Then maybe you’d better go get yourself some lessons at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio,” she told John tartly.

When the laughter subsided, they all slowly stretched their muscles and walked back toward the frame. Jordan picked up a hammer and listened idly as Kevin asked Esther more questions about St. Jude.

“Do you think he’d help me get something special for my birthday?” he was asking seriously. “I’m gonna be seven. It’s not until October, but I figure a kid has to start planning early.”

“Now I don’t know,” Esther said. “Depends on what it is you want.”

“Well,” Kevin said as he dug his toe into the ground, obviously reluctant to come right out with it. “Let’s just say it’s something every kid wants.”

“Can’t be more specific?” Esther prodded.

Kevin’s voice dropped, and Jordan strained to hear. “It’s got legs and a face and hair and all that stuff.”

“Hmm,” Esther said. “A pony?”

“No, no,” Kevin said plaintively. “A dad. You know, someone I could do stuff with. He doesn’t got to live with my mom. Lots of kids at school got dads who don’t live with their moms. I’m not picky.”

He sounded so earnest and wistful that Jordan felt a chord of sympathy for the boy. Why didn’t Hannah have any contact with Kevin’s father? At least then the kid would have a token dad.

“Well,” Esther said, “we’ll have to talk to St. Jude about this. I don’t know if he’ll be able to help or not, but we’ll see.”

“Can I go back to work with you now so we can talk to him right away?” Kevin asked eagerly.

“I don’t see why not,” Esther said. “Let’s go tell your mother.”

Jordan glanced over his shoulder and saw that Hannah was working too far away to have heard the exchange. Just as well, he thought. It would be one more thing for her to worry about.

Methodically he began driving nails into the cross brace in front of him.

So Kevin would be seven this October. That meant he was born in...

He mentally made the calculation while continuing to hammer. And Hannah would have conceived him nine months before that, in January of that year.

Jordan frowned. Something was there in the back of his memory. Something else that had happened in January of that year.

His loan. That was it. He’d received the loan that had enabled him to expand the business that month. He’d gone out to celebrate with...

Hannah.

He’d taken her out to dinner, and they’d ended up back at his apartment, toasting the growth of McClennon Industries.

And then they had made love. About nine months before Kevin Brewster was born.

The hammer came down again, but he was in such a state of shock that he paid no attention to his aim.

Hannah nearly dropped her own hammer when she heard him howl in pain. John, Jake and Ronnie were already racing toward him, and Esther, about to get into her car with Kevin, bustled back toward the work site as well.

Hannah danced around on tiptoe, straining to see over the shoulders of the McClennon brothers, but they were too tall, and with all of her bobbing she was beginning to feel like a kernel of popcorn on a hot skillet.

“He’ll live,” Esther pronounced, and Jake and John clapped Jordan on the back.

“Getting a little clumsy in our old age, aren’t we, brother?” John asked dryly.

“There was a bee,” Jordan said, but his alibi sounded a little weak to Hannah. “It buzzed me, and I missed the nail.”

“Hannah!” Esther called. “Take Jordan inside and put some cream on his thumb.”

“Me?” Hannah said from the back of the group, trying to think of a way to avoid the assignment. “I don’t know where it is.”

“Above the kitchen sink in the left-hand cupboard,” Esther said. “I’d do it myself, but I’m already late getting back to the diner. I’m outta here!”

The men drifted back to work, leaving Hannah a clear view of Jordan. He stood by an upright support post, staring morosely at his thumb.

“Can I see?” Kevin asked, and Hannah resisted the urge to tell him to leave Jordan alone, because she knew how entertaining something yucky like an injured thumb was to a six-year-old boy.

Jordan held out the thumb solemnly, and Kevin leaned forward to inspect it.

“Not much blood,” he said in disappointment. “I cut my knee once and, man, I bet there was gallons of blood.”

“Look at this,” Jordan told him, pulling up his shirt to display a small scar on his ribs. “I fell off my bike once.”

“Heck, I fall off my bike. all the time,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Especially if I’m trying to do wheelies.”