A Dad of His Own. Gail Martin Gaymer

given no consideration to what the child might expect of him. He had little to offer a sick child, but he’d wanted to meet the boy who lived under the burden of a tragic illness and somehow remained eager to read books and loved faraway places. His confidence sank to his stomach.

      He held out the gift bag. “I brought Cooper a present. I hope that’s okay.”

      She gazed at the package. “That was thoughtful. You should give it to him yourself.” She tilted her head to the right. “He’s in the den doing his homework.”

      Ethan looked past the staircase to the living room with a fireplace centered across the room flanked by two windows and below them, window seats. The homey feeling warmed him. Through the archway, he viewed a dining room with another room beyond that was closed off by beveled glass doors. The den he guessed. “Nice house, Lexie. Large and open. You can’t appreciate the size from the outside.”

      “It does fool you, doesn’t it.” She strode ahead of him, and as they passed through the dining room, he noticed the sunny kitchen with a large island and a plethora of cabinets.

      She pushed the glass doors, and they slid into the wall. When he followed her inside, he was taken with Cooper. The boy’s face radiated when he looked up. Though Cooper was bald, Ethan could imagine the boy with satiny brown hair like his mother’s. And he had her eyes—a bit darker blue, but with the same inquisitive depth.

      “Hi, Cooper.” He strode toward the sofa. “I’m Ethan Fox.”

      Cooper’s eyes shifted to the package in Ethan’s hand. When he looked up, he grinned. “I have leukemia. That’s why I’m bald.” He demonstrated by rubbing his scalp. “But I feel good.”

      “I’m glad.”

      He glanced over his shoulder to see if Lexie had left. She waited near the doorway, watching them. Unexpected discomfort rattled his confidence again, and he questioned once more why he had asked to meet the child.

      Cooper patted the cushion beside him. “Can you do math?”

      Hearing the boy’s eagerness, Ethan dislodged his confusion. “I’m pretty good with arithmetic. I’m a contractor, and I need math in my work. Do you know what a contractor is?”

      A frown settled on the boy’s face, and he shook his head.

      Ethan sank into the cushion beside him and tucked the package between his leg and the sofa arm. “I help people decide what kind of new home they want me to build.”

      “You can build a house?” His eyes widened as his gaze swung around the room. “By yourself?”

      “We have crews. Lots of men who build them, and sometimes I help people design additions to their houses.” He gestured to the room. “But this house doesn’t need any improvement. It’s good just as it is.”

      “We could have a library in it.”

      Ethan’s pulse skipped. “Yes, I suppose you could.” He scanned the one long wall across from the large side window. “This room could have been a library. See that wall? It could be filled with shelves.”

      Cooper leaned over as if he could get a better view of the wall. He eyed it for a moment. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

      A laugh burst from Ethan. “I don’t think your mom wants me redecorating your house.”

      “Can we, Mom?”

      Lexie stepped through the doorway. “Not today, Cooper.” She stood above them and grinned. “Did you want Mr. Fox to check your math?”

      He nodded, and the library topic appeared to sail from his mind. He handed Ethan his workbook and pencil. “This is subtraction.”

      “It is.” Ethan scanned the page. “Excellent. Not one wrong.”

      The boy beamed. “Mr. Fox said they’re all right.”

      “I heard him. That’s great.”

      “I think that deserves a present. What to you think, Cooper?” Ethan pulled the package from beside him and extended it.

      “Mr. Fox brought me a present, Mom.” He eyed his mother as if asking if it was all right to accept the gift.

      “I know.” She nodded. “You can open it.”

      Cooper reached for the bag, but Ethan didn’t let go. “But only if you call me Ethan.”

      Again Cooper looked at Lexie for approval. She nodded, and Ethan slipped the package into the boy’s hands. He pulled open the bag and a smile filled his face. “A book.” He held the gift into the air. “Look, Mom.”

      She nodded, appreciation fluttering on her face.

      “I like books.”

      Ethan’s heart warmed. “I know. Your mom told me.”

      “You did?” He grinned at his mother who nodded back.

      Ethan didn’t notice when Lexie slipped from the room. Cooper opened the book, and they sat side by side, mesmerized by the photographs and brief descriptions of insects and flowers, lovely close-ups that provided minute details. His chest tightened as he listened to the boy talk about the pictures and sound out the larger words. He read well, very well for a boy his age, and Ethan understood why Lexie extolled her son’s ability. A sweet child. So special Ethan ached.

      The ringing telephone jarred his ears, but it stopped after the first ring. Lexie must have taken the call, and he pulled his mind back to Cooper and pondered what he could do for him. How could he make the boy’s healthy days more pleasant? What fun things could a man do with a child being treated for leukemia?

      And then Lexie slipped into his mind. Nervous but open, that’s how she’d greeted him. She’d opened the door of her home to a virtual stranger, trusting that he wanted the best for her son. And he did. Life wasn’t always fair, but he couldn’t question the Lord’s purpose. Too often he wanted to. He remembered a book about why bad things happened to good people. That was the question that charged through his mind today.

      “Are these drawings?”

      Ethan jerked from his thoughts. “No. They’re photographs. People took them with a camera.”

      “So close?”

      He nodded. “They’re called close-ups.”

      “I like close-ups.” He leaned his head back against the cushion.

      The boy’s action stirred Ethan’s concern. “Are you tired?”

      He shook his head no, but Ethan read his expression. “Why don’t you rest awhile? The book is yours so you don’t have to look at the whole thing today.”

      “He’s right, Coop.” Lexie strode across the carpet, her look tender. But a dark shadow had settled in her eyes.

      Ethan rose. He needed to leave now and not be a nuisance, even though he wanted to stay. The longing flustered him.

      Cooper drew his legs onto the sofa. “My birthday is coming in a week. Will you come to my party?”

      Ethan froze in place. When he thawed enough to think, he sought Lexie’s eyes.

      She gave a faint nod. “You’re very welcome, but don’t feel you have to. Cooper gets overenthusiastic sometimes.”

      Ethan didn’t blame the boy. His life revolved around treatments and doctor’s offices and not being able to go to school. A birthday party held promise of presents and cake and fun. “I wouldn’t miss it.” The words had flown from his mouth without him weighing them.

      Lexie took the book from Cooper and tossed a pillow beside the arm of the sofa. “I want you to lie down, okay?”

      Cooper gave a resigned nod and wiggled around until he had curled up into a ball with his head on the pillow. Lexie took a throw from the back of the sofa and spread it