Three

“It’s lunchtime.” Regan grinned and held out the box like a peace offering. “And I thought you might need some nourishment.

She’d felt the pangs of hunger since late morning but had refused to stop working long enough to get something to eat. She really wanted to deliberate more on this man and his interference with her and Tyler’s lives—not eat pizza and venture into small talk.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked. “I promise not to say a word about the paint brush in your mouth, except pizza might taste better.”

Anita sensed embarrassment flowing from her head to her toes and removed the paintbrush. “It’s very nice of you to bring lunch, but it isn’t necessary.”

“I wanted to,” he said as she ushered him inside. “Besides, it’s supposed to be your favorite.”

“And what is my favorite?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“A triple cheese with mushrooms and a cheese crust,” he said with an air of importance. “Plus a bottle of diet cola to wash it all down.”

“How did you know?” She lifted the pizza box from his arms and inhaled the tantalizing aroma. Black coffee hadn’t been much of a breakfast.

“A six year old told me. He even told me where to buy it.”

“That rascal,” Anita said, unable to curb a smile. “It does smell heavenly. Is this all for me, or do I have to share it with you?” Her last remark meant a little more than gratitude. Maybe she should go easier on him.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” He pulled the bottle of diet cola from one pocket and a regular cola from the other.

Since he’d been so thoughtful, she decided to make the most of the situation. “Shall we dine on chairs from a pre-school room or a kindergarten room?”

“Don’t you have a teacher’s lounge?” he asked with a wry smile, then added, “Yes, you do. I remember exactly where it’s located.”

Anita didn’t particularly care for his attempt at charm. Let him amuse Tyler, but she preferred not to join the fire marshal’s fan club.

During lunch, he attempted conversation, and she did her best to relax and be amiable. She wished he had displayed some of this pleasantness the previous day.

“Thank you for the pizza.” She brushed the crumbs from her lap. “And thanks for watching Tyler’s game. He really appreciated it.”

He reached for another slice of pizza and took a generous bite. Swallowing, he reached for his drink. “Tyler’s a great kid. I’m sure you’re proud of him.”

“Yes, definitely. He’s my whole world.”

“I hope you don’t mind, especially since we got off to a rough start, but Mrs. Gavanti told me a little about your situation.” He wet his lips, and she detected a hint of apprehension in him.

“Oh?” Anita questioned, staring directly into Regan’s eyes. She didn’t like her personal life leading any topic of conversation. “And what did my mother say?”

He wiped tomato sauce from his mouth with a paper napkin and hesitated. “She said your husband drowned while fishing, and Tyler witnessed the accident.”

Anita nodded. Suddenly the food weighed heavy in her stomach. “Yes, and I’m sure she told you all about his nightmares.”

“Do you mind explaining to me what happened? I understand if you feel it’s none of my business, but if I can establish a relationship with him, maybe I can help.”

She deliberated over his request. In one breath, she wanted to tell Regan not to bother with Tyler’s problem, and in the other, she knew her son’s emotional health was more important than her irritation. None of the counselors had been successful in ridding him of the recurring nightmares, and she doubted if Regan could either, but she refused to discount the remote possibility.

“All right,” she said after several long moments. “His counselors urged me to have patience and allow him to work through his emotions, but he’s so young, and I hate to see him suffer.” Anita swallowed the lump in her throat. “Vince, my husband, and Tyler often went fishing together. It’s not my favorite thing to do, and it provided excellent father-son time. Anyway, when Vince fell into the lake, Tyler did exactly what his father had always instructed—stay seated in the boat and if something happens, shout for help. He obeyed. Two hours later, another fishing boat neared the scene, and Tyler offered them a hundred million dollars to find his daddy swimming in the deep water.”

“Poor kid.” Regan clenched his fist. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Little over two years ago.”

“Is he still under the care of a counselor?”

Anita shook her head. “No. Since we moved back to Sweetwell, I haven’t had time to interview anyone. I really wondered if moving away from Tulsa might help the nightmares. Truthfully, he has them pretty often.”

“Does he relive the accident?”

“Not always. Sometimes he’s lost or drowning or someone is making him take swimming lessons. Leaves me feeling helpless.”

“I understand how you feel. Love does powerful things when someone is hurting.” His voice sounded gentle, almost soothing. Odd, the rigid features so evident yesterday afternoon had vanished. “I haven’t much training in Tyler’s area, but I promise to do my best.”

Anita glanced at him and wondered why he even wanted to help. Granted, she didn’t care for the man, and his first impression ruined any thoughts of friendship, but he did represent an excellent organization.

“I will do anything for my son.” Anita affirmed her resolution by staring directly into his eyes. “I love him. These nightmares are ruining his childhood, and I’m at my wit’s end. If you can shed some light into his life, then you are welcome to do so.”

“Were his counselors Christian?” He leaned back in his chair.

Anita hesitated before she answered. After all, she was the director of a Christian School. “No, I wanted only the best for Tyler—you know, more education than a few classes in Bible college. I didn’t want the God-thing to interfere with his care.”

Regan lifted a brow. “I see. Anita, do you mind if we pray about this?”

She shifted uncomfortably. If she said exactly how she felt about prayer, it might get back to the preschool board. If she consented, she had to sit through Regan’s petition to a Deity she’d lost faith in. “Sure,” she agreed. “Go right ahead.”

Anita listened to Regan pray for healing and guidance in his relationship with Tyler. She tried to listen respectfully, but a mixture of awkwardness and discomfort settled upon her. She’d heard similar prayers before, and nothing had resulted. Why should this one make any difference?

Feeling certain her mother had thoroughly considered Regan’s background, Anita decided to talk to her about him after dinner. Now I wish I hadn’t given him permission to pray.

After he finished, she took a deep breath. “I’m not convinced you can do anything more than what trained professionals have managed. Acting on behalf of the Big Brothers is commendable, but attempting to rid Tyler of an emotional disorder is another. It could cause more harm than good.”

She saw a pained expression, similar to what she’d seen yesterday, and she felt a brief twinge of guilt. But Tyler’s mental health came first. As his mother and only living parent, she must carefully select his companions and activities. She shouldn’t have welcomed Regan to befriend Tyler without doing more research about him.

“I’d really like to try—possibly gain his confidence.”

“Why?”

“I like kids, and I want to see them happy and safe—to grow up in God’s family with a sense of self-worth.”

At last Anita felt she had the upper hand. “I see no harm in social contacts. School starts on Wednesday, and I need to make sure he gets his rest during the week.”

Regan nodded. “How does one night a week, then something on the weekends, like a soccer game and breakfast or lunch depending on the game?”

“We can work it out,” Anita replied dubiously. She closed the empty pizza box. “Well, I need to get back to work.”

He picked up the drink containers and dropped them into the trash. “Can I help?” He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets, a mannerism she’d noticed the previous evening when he seemed nervous.

“It’s not necessary. I only have about another hour or so left.”

“I came prepared to work.”

She smiled, but she’d spent enough of one day with him. She still hadn’t taken the time to tuck him into a neat little corner of her mind.

“No, thanks, really. I’d like to finish it myself. I need the solitude to think about school opening.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Thanks again for the pizza. It tasted delicious.”

Moments later, Anita watched Regan pull away from the school parking lot. She waved before slowly trudging back down the hallway to the two-year-old room.

Contemplating Regan’s outward appearance, she believed his deep-set eyes and dimpled grin were his most attractive features. He stood about four inches taller than her five foot eight—not too thin or too heavy, sort of average.

Wait a minute, why am I sizing him up like apples at the grocery store? I don’t think I even like him. She simply needed to find out more information from her mother. The Big Brother arrangement may not have been such a good idea. And she really wished she hadn’t agreed to any of it.

Anita flipped open a can of pale yellow paint and mentally calculated a mid-afternoon completion time. She could then spend the evening with her mother before heading home. Again, she felt relief in knowing her mother lived only moments away instead of miles. The two talked more now than when she lived at home. Possibly their kinship came in the absence of their husbands.

❧

“Mom, as always you cooked a fantastic dinner.” Anita dabbed her mouth with a blue-checked napkin. “You know how I love manicotti. I’ll have to run five miles before I can fit through my apartment door.”

“Me too, Grandma,” Tyler chimed in. “You cook almost as good as Mom.”

“Thank you.” Her mother clasped her hands together and leaned toward her grandson. “Are you ready for dessert? I made a triple layer chocolate cake.”

Even Tyler shook his head and patted his stomach. “I’m too full, but maybe I could take some home for later?” He gave his mother a silent plea.

Anita attempted to give him a stern look, but she laughed instead, knowing her mother had baked the cake especially for him. “Perhaps a little piece wouldn’t hurt.”

“Or a little extra for tomorrow,” Mom said, her round face glowing, “and I’ll put in a slice for your mom.”

Tyler carried his plate and silverware to the kitchen counter and hurried off outside to play. After a few minutes of chitchat, Anita’s mother eyed her suspiciously. “What’s wrong, Honey? It’s written all over your face.”

Anita offered a faint smile. “That obvious, uh?”

Her mother scooted herself from the table. “Yes, so out with it.”

“In two words, Regan Moore.”

“Regan? Is he not going to work out for Tyler?” She sounded upset.

Anita took a deep breath. “I’m not sure about it yet. I neglected to tell you he failed the school’s fire inspection.”

Mom’s dark eyes flashed, and she stiffened. “Why? What happened?”

Anita poured them another cup of coffee and added cream and artificial sweetener to her mother’s. Taking a deep breath, she told the whole story. “I’m trying to have an open mind about him, and he did apologize. But how can I trust him with Tyler knowing he can be rather nasty? Plus, he wants an opportunity to help with the nightmares.”

“Regan would never do anything to harm a child,” her mother said, sadness spreading across her face.

Anita viewed the tiny lines around her mother’s eyes. Dark strands wove through silver hair, softening the telltale signs of age. “Maybe you should tell me about the man, because I’m confused and frustrated. I know you respect him, or you wouldn’t have recommended him.”

Her mother nodded. “I agree he could have been more understanding about the paint cans, but there’s a reason behind his behavior. You see, nearly four years ago, about this time of year. . .” She stood abruptly from the table and headed for the kitchen, leaving Anita short of bewildered. A moment later, she returned with a calendar. “This makes sense.”

“Mom, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She set the calendar aside and pulled her chair to the table. “Regan’s wife and little daughter were killed in a tragic house fire four years ago. I believe yesterday was the anniversary of their deaths, and you said his grandmother died. I remember the date because the church had a huge grounds clean-up on that day. Anyway, he’d just been appointed fire marshal and was at the station house when the call came through. He rode with the crew to extinguish the blaze.”

“How terrible.” Anita shuddered, rubbing an eerie chill from her arms.

“It gets worse. Regan found his wife and daughter in their bedroom where the two had been napping together. They’d been overcome with smoke. For a long time, he struggled with their deaths and blamed himself.”

Anita blinked back the tears, reliving a fraction of her own pain in losing Vince. She couldn’t have lived another moment if Tyler had been taken from her too. “Now I understand his obsession with the rules regarding fire safety. I wonder how he can work in his position with those horrible memories. I mean, Mom, it must be a constant reminder of their deaths.”

“I’m not sure how he does it, but I know his faith is firmly rooted in Jesus Christ. Honey, he really is a good man. I’m sure losing his grandmother along with facing the anniversary of his family’s tragic deaths triggered his abrupt behavior. Please believe me, I thought he’d do a magnificent job with Tyler. He dearly loves kids, and he volunteers a great deal of his time to the church youth.”

“Well, Tyler adores him,” Anita replied. “I wish I’d known his background. Then I could have been more understanding.”

Her mother reached across the table and patted her daughter’s hand. “I’m sure he’s had his share of nightmares. You know, Regan may be able to work wonders with our Tyler.”

“You’re wanting me to try, aren’t you?” Anita nibbled on her lip. She remembered how jealous she’d been of Regan last night and today with Tyler. I thought I was above that type of thing, but I guess not.

“Nothing else has worked, and I’ve prayed for a miracle.”

Anita took another sip of coffee. “All right. I’ll talk to Regan this week.”

The gravity of the man’s situation shook her again. She couldn’t imagine facing the horror of losing a child and a spouse. The devastation of Vince’s death had pushed her into severe depression, and her regular physician had prescribed antidepressants for more than a year until she’d flushed them down the toilet when they didn’t help. After two years, she still sank into dark pits of despair. Blame and guilt stalked her like a haunting shadow. If she’d been a better wife: encouraged more, been more loving, cooked better, kept a cleaner house, exercised more, given him another child, accompanied him and Tyler when they went fishing. The list of ways she might have prevented Vince from drowning proved endless.

Regan must possess inner strength, but she didn’t know how she felt about his attributing his healing to God. How long had it been since her spiritual life meant more than it did now? She’d closed the door on God when Vince died. In short, God’s sense of fairness didn’t appeal to her, and He’d continued to make life difficult. No, she didn’t need God to tangle up her mind. She’d had enough of life’s complications.