Four Reasons For Fatherhood. Muriel Jensen

sat on the edge of Paul’s bed and smoothed his hair. “Like if you wanted to have sweet dreams, and think about happy things like all the fun stuff we’re going to do together.”

      John folded his arms pugnaciously atop the covers. “What if we asked them to come back?”

      Susan tucked Paul in, then went to John’s bed. “That’s something they can’t do, John. But they’re with us in spirit.”

      “That’s not good enough,” he said unequivocally. “I want them back.”

      “I know,” she replied gently. “So do I. But you can’t have that.”

      “Then I want Uncle Aaron to stay.”

      She patted his arm. “We all have to get on with our lives, John. Your uncle has to get on with his, and we have to get on with ours.”

      John turned onto his side. “Well, it sucks.”

      She leaned down to kiss his cheek. When she stood to leave the room, she looked tired and grim.

      Aaron felt even worse than that. He kissed Paul, then John. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now,” he said, “but pretty soon you won’t feel so bad and life will be fun again. I promise.”

      The boys gave him the look children give adults when they know they’re being scammed.

      “Yeah,” John replied. “Good night, Uncle Aaron.”

      SUSAN SHOOK CEREAL into bowls, added milk, sliced bananas, and told herself bracingly that the day couldn’t be too awful. All they had to move was two rooms of furniture—the boys’ bedrooms. Paulette Norris, her producer and Chris Charbon, her neighbor, were coming to help her. How awful could that be?

      She didn’t want to think about it. Keeping four little boys out of trouble while heavy furniture was being moved struck terror into her heart. She’d have to leave Paulette or Chris with the boys while she helped the other move. Or maybe their uncle would stay with them. She wasn’t sure just when he intended to return to Seattle. He’d missed the funeral and seen the boys. There was nothing else left for him to do here.

      He’d folded the blanket he’d used last night on the sofa and stacked it neatly with the pillow in a corner. He’d apparently left already on some errand he hadn’t shared with her, because he didn’t seem to be in the house. His bag, though, was at the foot of the stairs where he’d left it.

      “I don’t want to move,” John said as Susan spooned instant cocoa into a lineup of cups.

      She smiled sympathetically at him over her shoulder. “I know you don’t. But most of my television show takes place in the room I’m fixing at my house and it would make things a lot easier for me if I didn’t have to travel across town. I think you’ll like it once you get there.”

      “Do you have ponies?” Paul asked.

      She shook her head. “No ponies.”

      “Dogs?”

      “Nope.”

      Paul sighed dramatically. “I don’t want to go either.”

      George looked woeful. “Are we gonna go today?”

      She poured hot water into the cups and stirred. “Yes,” she said. “My friend is going to stay with you while I move all your stuff over, then we’re going to have a pizza party at my house, then you can fix things up in your room however you like.”

      George’s lip began to quiver. “But I don’t want to go today. Can’t we go tomorrow?”

      She took the handle of two cups in each hand and carried them to the table, wondering what she could do to lighten the mood. Only Ringo happily stuffed cereal into his mouth, unaware that his brothers’ world had crumbled—and that they weren’t too happy with the woman who was trying to reassemble the pieces.

      “We have to go today,” she explained gently “because I have a show to do the day after tomorrow and I have a lot to get ready.”

      John poked desultorily at his cereal. Paul picked up spoonfuls of milk, then tipped the spoon and dribbled it back into the bowl again.

      George began to cry.

      A firm rap sounded on the door, followed by Aaron’s arrival in the room. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt that seemed to change the color of his eyes. He was followed by two other men, one of them pushing a furniture dolly.

      One of the men Susan recognized as Micah Steadwell, whom Aaron had introduced to her in front of the church.

      “Hey guys!” Aaron said to the boys. He smiled at Susan. “I got some help and a truck. We should have the job done in no time. You remember Micah,” he said to Susan.

      “Of course.” She returned Micah’s smile. “Good morning.”

      Micah drew a tall good-looking man forward. “This is my brother, Ross. Ross, this is Susan Turner, Aaron’s friend.”

      The man offered his hand to Susan. He had dark hair and laughter in his eyes. “I’m pleased to meet you. You’re somewhat of a legend at Hardware and Muffins.”

      She blinked. “I’m…where?”

      “Hardware and Muffins. My parents’ hardware store—my mother runs it alone now. She was inspired one day to put a coffee bar in the back and all of a sudden it’s become the place to be in Princeton.”

      “No kidding.” Susan smiled, hoping she didn’t look as confused as she felt. Coffee and books, sure. But coffee and hardware?

      He seemed to understand what she was thinking. “Once you meet my mother, you’ll understand,” he said clearly convinced that was true. “She’s unique.”

      Micah smiled. “That’s the nice word for it.”

      Ross went on. “She has classes for women on working with tools called Hardware for Women. She stocks Legacy, you know. She’s wanted to invite you to come and speak to her group for months, but she was sure you’d be too busy.” He glanced beyond her to the boys, who were watching the adults with a little less despair than they’d shown earlier. “That’s pretty much a certainty now, isn’t it?”

      Susan shrugged. She loved talking to women about what she knew best. The critics claimed that her show was so successful because she demonstrated carpentry and fix-it projects for women without talking down to them, while encouraging them to take on bigger and more complicated jobs. She made it seem as though she was having one-on-one dialogue with each woman in her audience.

      “Maybe when I get better organized…”

      Ross smiled broadly. “Great! Because there’s an inherent bonus in talking to Mom’s group.”

      “What’s that?”

      “There’s a Daddy Club meeting going on across the shop at the same time.”

      “A what?”

      “The Daddy Club,” he explained, “is a group I formed for single fathers needing help dealing with their children. We have men who are changing diapers and staying up all night with teething babies, and others who are going through the minefield of raising teenagers and staying up all night waiting for them to come home. But you’d have free child care while you’re talking to the ladies, because we’ve just turned part of the stockroom into a playroom full of toys and games, and we dads alternate supervising.”

      Susan tried to take it all in. A self-help group of single fathers holding meetings in a hardware-and-muffins store where women were learning to work with tools.

      Micah smiled at her perplexity. “It works, believe it or not. You’ll have to come and see.”

      Susan was beginning to believe that she would.

      But for now, she had to deal with Aaron Bradley and his propensity for taking over.