Take My Hand. Ruth Scofield

sit down, Cliff,” J.D. said. “Let’s order first.”

      “That’s a good idea,” Alexis said. She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder to lightly guide him toward the back corner booth. “I’m starved and I hear the blueberry pancakes are wonderful here.”

      Cliff slid into the booth next to his dad, leaning his head into his hand. He stared at Tina. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend?”

      “Uh, no.” The young woman started, then blushed to the roots of her hair. “My boyfriend…he…isn’t from around here.”

      “Cliff, can’t you keep your mouth shut?” J.D. said.

      “I only asked. What’s wrong with that?”

      Alexis immediately felt sorry for the girl. It seemed obvious to her that Tina had a crush on J.D. But was J.D. aware of that?

      “That’s none of your business, Cliff.” J.D. narrowed his eyes and spoke firmly. “But for your information, her dad and I are good fishing buddies. That’s all.” He turned to the young waitress. “Sorry, Tina. Guess I have to teach my son some manners. Let’s order.”

      Cliff lost interest. As Tina took their orders, he began to swing his foot, kicking the seat.

      “Cliff!” J.D. said, his tone firm.

      “What?”

      “Stop kicking.”

      The boy stopped, but only a moment passed before he grabbed the salt and pepper shakers to march them across the table with clacking noises. Without comment, Alexis reached across and took the shakers out of his hands. She gently set them aside.

      A grateful flash from J.D.’s dark gaze sent a warm glow to her heart. Along with it came all kinds of other messages of awareness…his vulnerability being most prominent. Her fingertips itched to touch his hand in reassurance. As a parent, he seemed totally helpless. But surely any parent would know how difficult a special-needs child could be….

      That was the major problem, though, she was beginning to understand. J.D. didn’t know, he hadn’t a clue. She opened her mouth to offer something to soothe him, but he’d slipped away somewhere in his thoughts.

      You’re a washout, boy, came an old refrain inside J.D.’s head. Can’t you do anything right? An echo from too many yesterdays, painful and loud in the household where he’d grown up. His own father had shown little patience with a son who would rather spend time at an auto repair shop than school, home or studies.

      He was still a washout, he guessed. Melanie had told him so often enough. As a husband. As a father.

      He immediately cut off that line of thought. So he wasn’t good husband material. What did that matter? He didn’t have to be, since he had no intention of getting married again. And as a dad, it was up to him now, wasn’t it? And given time, he’d learn to deal with his son, learn to be a better father than he had had.

      Tina filled their coffee cups, then left. J.D. leaned back and glanced at Alexis. She’d pulled off her ball cap, letting her ponytail dangle. He had the urge to finger it, to see if it was as soft as it looked. But this was his son’s teacher…and her sympathetic blue gaze held more than a little speculation.

      He shifted uncomfortably to stare silently at the far wall. He didn’t know what to say next. This wasn’t like a date, now was it?

      “I seem to remember seeing Tina at our church service,” Alexis said by way of conversation. “She sits with a girlfriend when the college kids are home on break.”

      “Hmm,” J.D. answered.

      “We have an active teen group. But there’s not many of Tina’s age around on a normal Sunday.”

      He stirred his coffee, working on thinking about how much he had to do at his shop and not how Alexis’s hair reminded him of corn silk. Or how dumb she must think he was.

      “I’ve heard that once kids graduate high school here, most of them leave either for college or to work in the larger cities,” she continued. “Not too much in this town by way of employment.”

      J.D. secretly studied Alexis’s slim fingers. Ringless today. Light polish over short, well-shaped nails.

      She made small talk to fill his silence, he knew. Something he wasn’t good at anytime, but especially not with this kind of woman. Nothing in common. Anyway, he’d never felt the need to constantly fill the air with the sound of his own voice. Unless he discussed engines, or fishing and the state of the lakes. Nah—small talk with women always felt too awkward.

      Anyway, he preferred to simply look at a teacher; teachers had always given him a headache. He didn’t see a need to talk to one if a guy didn’t have to.

      And looking at this one in particular was okay. Actually, a pure number ten on the pleasure scale. And if he forgot she was a teacher and thought of her merely as a female….

      He liked the way her mouth moved when she talked. If she taught any of those extension classes the high school offered adults, he might just be tempted to take one.

      He suddenly noticed Alexis’s blue gaze fastened on him expectantly. A softness, sweet beyond sweet potato pie, filled her gaze. A shaft of out-and-out pleasure shot through him as straight as a well-aimed dart. If he didn’t watch it, she’d send him into a tailspin of wants—and where would that get him? On the nowhere road. She was his son’s teacher. Nothing more.

      Small talk…what was it she had said? About the jobs available in town?

      “Seasonal stuff,” J.D. answered absently. “Most years are good, but not always steady.”

      Cliff whistled tunelessly. Neither melodiously nor under his breath.

      “Cliff.” J.D. let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temple with his thumb. The kid would make a sphinx yelp in protest.

      “Can I play the videos while we wait?”

      “Sure, why not.” He felt weak for giving in to his son’s constant demands, but he’d had about enough of frazzled nerves for the morning. Beyond that, he and his son hadn’t yet made friends with each other.

      More proof that, as a father, he was a dud….

      He dug into his pocket and pulled out change, then counted out all the quarters he had. “Make that do.”

      Cliff grabbed the coins and scooted out of the booth.

      J.D. sat without speaking. He savored the next moment of quiet before a creeping awareness of guilt snaked up his consciousness. What kind of a father was he, to never want his son around? To feel no closeness to the boy?

      And whose fault is that? You could have gone to California to see him. Could have sought joint custody. Could have demanded proof of Melanie’s claims that Cliff wasn’t yours….

      That issue had been put to rest once and for all in Melanie’s last letter. The one she’d written as she lay dying. And there was always DNA testing these days. But he didn’t need it. Cliff was his, all right. He saw too much of himself in the boy to doubt it. No, the fault was his.

      “Guess I’ll never be a good dad.”

      “Why do you say that?” Alexis asked.

      He hadn’t really intended on getting into a discussion with Miss Richmond on this subject right now; he didn’t want her to dig too deep.

      But he did need help. Only God knew how much.

      He swallowed the last of his coffee and looked around to catch Tina’s eye for a refill, to no avail. Tina chatted with a customer at the far end of the counter. He couldn’t find any excuse for postponement from that direction.

      “Can’t make the kid mind,” he finally said. On his side of the table he shoved his knife and fork from place to place. It was embarrassing to voice all his failures. He wasn’t used to it.