One Of A Kind Dad. Daly Thompson

moving in on it, kids,” Jesse said. “Grab a couple of those round loaves of bread out of the pantry, Sergeant Jamison. Step lively. It’s that door over there.” He pointed with his stirring spoon and juices dripped on the floor.

      “The rest of you boys get that table set and everybody sit down. You’re startin’ to make me dizzy.”

      NOBODY’S LIFE COULD BE this good. The boys threw cutlery and plates haphazardly onto the table and sat down at once, including Jonathan. Shyly, Lilah joined them.

      “What can I get you to drink? Water? Wine? Beer from my secret stash?”

      “Water, please,” she said, “and thank you.” Secret stash? He was a closet drinker? While he harbored a houseful of foster boys, he drank himself into oblivion night after night?

      “Good choice,” he said. “I was down to my last beer—I have one every Saturday night after I get the kids to bed, and the wine is the stuff Jesse uses for his fancy beef stews. The alcohol boils off,” he explained, as if he thought she might be planning to report him for serving wine to children.

      So. Not a big drinker. He had to have a different fatal flaw. All men had a fatal flaw.

      Or maybe just the ones who’d had some impact on her life.

      Already stretched as tight as a bungee cord, every bone in her body went stiff when the biggest dog she’d ever seen leapt into the room and ran directly toward Jonathan. She gasped, jumping up so rapidly she knocked over her chair.

      Before she could rescue her son, if it was possible to rescue him from a beast this huge, the dog had set to work licking Jonathan’s face. Jonathan was giggling uncontrollably, hugging the animal.

      She picked up her chair and sat down. “I see he’s friendly,” she said, feeling limp as a frozen celery stalk. “What—is he?”

      “An Irish wolfhound,” Daniel said, “who’s way too big to be way too friendly.” In a quiet tone, he said, “Aengus. Sit.”

      Aengus sat.

      “Stay,” Daniel said.

      Aengus stayed.

      Jason came back and Jesse called out over the cacophony of voices, “Chow’s on!” He put a huge serving of stew in front of Lilah and another in front of Jonathan, then began serving the rest of them, including a plate for the dog, who didn’t move until Daniel said, “Okay.” A basket of hot bread and a stick of butter in a plastic refrigerator container followed, then a huge plastic bowl of salad. The noise level was deafening as the boys ate and talked at the same time.

      The stew was delicious, a rich combination of chicken and vegetables. Lilah tried to eat slowly, signaling to Jonathan not to gobble his food. But all the kids were eating as if they hadn’t eaten in months.

      “Everything okay?” Daniel said.

      She turned to look at him. “It’s excellent. Thank you,” she said, hearing the faintness of her voice. She felt overwhelmed by…

      By what, she wasn’t sure. When she turned back to her plate, she saw that Jesse had refilled it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him putting not one but three pies into the oven to warm.

      What overwhelmed her was the realization that this was a happier family than either she or Jonathan had ever known. Her parents had been poor and they’d resented it, never showing her the love they must have felt for her, their only child. They’d never shared a meal like this one, gathered around a table and laughing together. As for Jonathan’s life with her and Bruce…Lilah’s throat tightened, and she rose from the table.

      “This has been wonderful, but we should go now,” she managed to say before Daniel leapt up just as rapidly.

      He took her arm and turned her away from the boys, saying, “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. You guys get on with it. Save us some pie.” He closed the door on the chaotic scene and began to hurry her down the hall.

      “No!” she said, tugging her arm away from him. “I’m fine. Let me go back to the kitchen.”

      Taken aback, Daniel halted and turned to look at her. She glared back at him. “Why?” was all he could think of to say.

      “I don’t want to leave Jonathan alone.”

      “Alone with four other boys and a retired marine?”

      “Alone without me. And I don’t want to be alone with you.”

      He spoke as soothingly as he could. “Look, something upset you in the kitchen, and I thought you might like some privacy.”

      “I would,” she said. Her voice was strained. “I really appreciate your hospitality, but now I want to take my son home.”

      “As soon as we talk.” Lilah was chewing off her own foot, taking herself and her child away from something they’d both obviously enjoyed.

      “All right. We’ll talk.” Stiffly, she followed him into the living room. And that was the right word for it—signs of living were everywhere, with books, games, bats and balls, this and that dropped here and there.

      “Have a seat. How about some coffee? Relax a minute and I’ll bring you some.” Daniel knew she wouldn’t leave without her son, but he hurried out anyway, leaving her sitting straight as a fencepost on the cracked leather sofa. When he came back she was still sitting there, looking slightly less combative.

      He handed her one of the coffee mugs, stretching out his arm as far as it would go and not coming any closer to her than he had to, as if she were a feral cat. Then he sat down in the chair that was farthest from her chosen corner.

      “I suppose this means I’ve lost my chance to get the job,” she said as if she’d rehearsed the lines in his absence. “I did get a little…upset. I guess I’m tired and overemotional.”

      He nodded. “Moving is stressful. But, no, you haven’t lost your chance. In fact, you seem to be exactly the housekeeper we’ve been looking for.”

      It was painful for Daniel to see the relief that flooded her face. “So give me your address, and I’ll drop you a note.”

      “As I said earlier, I’ll come to the clinic in a few days to find out what you decided.”

      Daniel’s chest tightened. “You don’t have a phone, you don’t have an address—you’re homeless, aren’t you?”

      She flushed with embarrassment. “That’s none of your business.”

      “Lilah,” he said, “look around you. Making sure kids are being taken care of is my business.”

      “I’m taking very good care of Jonathan,” she said. Her voice shook and her eyes glittered with tears. “He’s the most important thing in my…”

      “Mom!” Jonathan ran into the room, so excited he looked as if he might pop. “Can I spend the night with Nick? He thinks I’d help the dreamcatcher work better.”

      Aengus bounded in right behind Jonathan, and Nick followed with a precariously loaded tray holding wedges of apple pie. He pushed aside the things that already littered the coffee table and set down the tray. “Please?” Jonathan said. His eyes were shining.

      Daniel desperately wanted Lilah to say yes—for Nick, who looked so happy, and for Jonathan, her homeless son. “That sounds like a great idea to me,” he said, raising a hand to warn Aengus against stealing the pie.

      “Jonathan, we’ve imposed ourselves on these people long enough. It’s time to go home. So say goodbye and thank you and we’ll—”

      “But Mom, we don’t—”

      Lilah stiffened, and Jonathan grew quiet.

      “Tell you what,” Daniel said easily, “your mom and I will discuss it. You guys can find something to do for five