Father in the Making

“What you think is completely irrelevant to me, Ms.—look, what’s your first name again?”

“Bridgette.” She didn’t want him calling her by her first name. She wanted their relationship to remain completely formal. “Ms. Rafanelli will do just fine.”

The absence of Ms. Rafanelli would do even better, he thought. It was time to get on with the rest of his life and get her out of here. He took her elbow. “Well, thanks for coming.”

Bridgette eluded his hold. “I’d like to say goodbye to Mickey.”

If he let her go, there was no telling when she would leave. “I’ll tell him for you.”

The hell he would, she thought.

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself.”

With that, she hurried down the hall before he attempted to forcibly eject her. She wouldn’t put it past him. Any man who could neglect a child was capable of almost anything.

Bridgette stopped just short of Mickey’s doorway. Singsong music was coming out of the room. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open slowly with her fingertips. Inside, Mickey was sitting on the floor in front of a small portable television set. He was as erect as if a ruler had been inserted under his hockey team T-shirt. Bridgette quietly slipped into the room.

Mickey didn’t even notice her presence. His eyes were focused on the colorful screen, his finger mechanically pumping the buttons on the control pad.

He didn’t seem to be in the room at all.

Cry, Mickey, cry.

On-screen, a tiny gnome in green livery was valiantly attempting to rescue an equally tiny princess in a far-off castle. The gnome kept falling into the moat. Each time he did, another one of his lives was lost.

“How many points do you have?” she asked softly.

Mickey didn’t bother to turn around. It was as if he’d known she was there all the time. Known and hadn’t reacted. “Nine hundred and three. But I’ve only got one life left.”

He usually played very well. And likely as not, he would ask her to join him. He made no such request today.

“Better be careful then.”

There was nothing left to say for the moment. Mickey had completely withdrawn into himself. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe Mickey did need a little time to himself first. “I’m going home now.”

Mickey nodded. The gnome fell into the moat again. The sign Game Over flashed. He started a new game.

She wanted to sweep him into her arms again. To hold him and rock him and let him cry his heart out. Stymied, she remained where she was.

“If you need anything, my telephone number is number three on the ReDial.” She’d helped Diane program it. Diane had always been so lost when it came to anything remotely complicated. “Call me anytime if you need to talk.”

Mickey nodded again. She knew he wouldn’t be calling. At least, not for a while.

Bridgette felt awkward. She had never felt awkward with a child before, but then, there was the aura of a third party in the room with them. Death made her feel uncomfortable and at a loss.

“Anyway,” she said, backing up toward the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow after school for lessons.”

“Okay,” he mumbled to his control pad.

Bridgette was desperate to get any sort of reaction from Mickey. It was as if that one moment when he’d first seen her had been a slip. She saw no trace of the boy she knew. “We can go over a new song.”

“Okay.”

She sighed inwardly and retreated. She’d try again tomorrow. “Bye.”

He glanced at her for a moment, a troubled, lost soul, before returning to his game. “’Bye.”

Feeling frustrated beyond words, Bridgette turned and walked directly into Blaine. He’d been standing right outside Mickey’s room, obviously listening to every word. Needing a target, she selected him.

Bridgette pushed Blaine away, trying not to notice that she had experienced a definite reaction to brushing up against his very hard body.

“Why are you hovering over me?” she whispered angrily as she stepped to the side so that Mickey couldn’t hear them.

He had a question of his own. “Why are you coming back tomorrow?”

She had a feeling that he’d like nothing better than to bar her from Mickey’s life. Fat chance.

“I already told you. Besides being his godmother, I’m also his piano teacher. We have a lesson tomorrow.” She was determined to give the boy some semblance of order within the chaos he found himself in. It was a given that this man wouldn’t.

“I’m canceling it. You don’t have to come by.” The last thing he needed while he was trying to establish a fuller relationship with Mickey was to have her around, sniping at him.

Oh, no, it wasn’t going to be that easy. It wasn’t going to be easy at all. Getting rid of her was going to be downright impossible, she promised him silently. She had an emotional stake in Mickey. For his sake and Diane’s, she intended to be around.

“I’m paid up through the end of the month,” she informed him as she crossed to the front door. “I’ll be back.” She paused in the doorway and looked at him over her shoulder. “Some of us still honor commitments.”

There was no denying the fact that the woman was gorgeous, just as there was no denying the fact that she was a shrew. A pity.

“And some of you need to be committed,” he muttered under his breath.

She grinned for the first time since she had entered. “Exactly. ‘Bye, Jack,” she called out. “I’m leaving.”

Not far away enough, Blaine thought as he closed the door firmly behind her.

Jack walked in, too late to say goodbye. He gathered by Blaine’s expression that the meeting with Bridgette had gone from bad to worse after he’d left the room. The fact amused him. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

Blaine turned, then made an effort to regain his composure. “That’s putting it rather mildly.”

Jack laughed as he led the way into the kitchen. “You should see her grandmother.”

Blaine caught the fond note in Jack’s voice. Jack had been a widower for as long as he’d known him. He had never thought of the man as being interested in finding a romantic partner. He wondered if Jack was being taken advantage of.

“Anything like her?”

Jack took out two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter. The expression on his face belonged to that of a man years younger. “Yes. A warm, passionate woman who makes you glad you’re alive.”

Blaine shook his head as he watched Jack pour coffee into his mug. “Then she’s nothing at all like her granddaughter.”

Jack lowered himself into the kitchen chair, then took a tentative sip of his coffee. He studied his former son-in-law over the rim of his mug. “Bridgette was very close to Diane.”