The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2) Read online

  “Pity,” she said with an exaggerated pout forming on her lips. “Maybe some other time.”

  I didn’t answer, just kept walking, hoping she’d think I hadn’t heard the last part. I wasn’t accustomed to telling women I didn’t want to date them. Candace was pushy, but she didn’t mean any harm. One day, I’d have to just tell her, straight out, I wasn’t interested in her.

  “Dad!” Jaxy saw me through a window and ran inside, greeting me with a big hug. Ruby wandered in slowly, but still managed a halfhearted side hug. I’d take it. I’d take any show of affection from my moody preteen.

  “You guys ready to go home?” I asked, my arms still wrapped around them.

  “Yeah,” Jaxy said.

  “Definitely,” Ruby added.

  I laughed.

  “Let’s go then.”

  “Okay, kids. Homework time,” I said as I placed the dinner dishes in the sink. It had been spaghetti night. I wasn’t a master chef, but there were a few dishes I managed without burning the house down that tasted decent. They were on a weekly rotation and when the kids got tired of the same seven meals, I tried to throw something in to surprise them. The surprises only worked out about 50 percent of the time. The other 50 percent were pizza nights after my failed attempts ended up in the trash.

  Schoolwork was one area where both the kids excelled. Rarely did I ever have to get after them to do their homework, and I enjoyed helping them if they needed it. They each grabbed their backpacks, took a stool at the bar, and made themselves comfortable. As I did every evening at homework time, I poured them each a glass of chocolate milk. In about a half hour, I’d pop some popcorn and let them munch on it as they worked.

  “What do we have going on this evening?” I asked as I set the glasses down in front of them, flinging a kitchen towel over my shoulder.

  “I have to read this story about the Oregon Trail and then write a paragraph about it,” Ruby said, holding up a small book.

  “I can sum up the Oregon Trail in two words: wagons and dysentery.”

  “What’s dis-sin-tury?” Jaxy asked, slowly pronouncing the unfamiliar word.

  “It means they pooped themselves to death.” Both kids immediately broke into fits of giggles and I leaned back, watching my children laugh. Even if it was at the word poop, I could listen to them laugh forever. When the laughter died off, and it took a few minutes, I asked Jaxy, “What about you? What are you working on this evening?”

  “I have a math packet,” he replied, opening his backpack. “Oh, and Miss Richards sent home this letter.”

  My gut immediately dropped. Letters from teachers were notoriously bad things. My mind buzzed with what Jax could have done and how much trouble he might be in.

  “What’d you do?” I asked, my tone indicating I believed him already guilty.

  “Nothing, I swear! I was just sitting at my desk and Miss Richards told me there’s a letter in my bag for you. I didn’t get into any trouble.” He shoved the envelope at me like it was proof of his innocence.

  I took it from him with a skeptical look, but proceeded to open it.

  Dear Mr. Roberts,

  It is with great excitement that I write to inform you of Jax’s invitation to join the Talented and Gifted Program at North Elm Elementary. Jax has always been a bright student, so I am not surprised he has earned this honor. I would like to discuss plans with you at a parent/teacher conference. Please e-mail me to discuss possible meeting times.

  Jax is a pleasure to have in class and I can’t wait to help him with this next big step in his education.

  Best Regards,

  Miss Richards

  2nd Grade Teacher

  North Elm Elementary

  [email protected]

  I read the letter once, and then I read it again. I looked up to Jaxy, who had started his math worksheet, obviously not caring too much about what the letter said.

  “Jaxy, this letter says you got into TAG.”

  “What’s TAG?”

  “TAG is an acronym for talented and gifted.”

  “What’s an acronym?” he asked, faced scrunched up.

  “It’s when they use the first letters of words to make a new word. Kind of like a shortcut,” I answered with a laugh.

  “Oh,” he said slowly. I could picture the wheels turning in his brain. “Cool. Can we have popcorn now?”

  Chapter Two

  Devon

  Getting my mom to watch my kids was not difficult. She loved having them. My dad did too, but we all knew what was up. Grandma was in charge and she made the plans for the grandkids. Dad was just along for the ride, and he enjoyed them just as much as she did. It was a bonus, however, when I asked if they could take the kids on a Friday night and my mom suggested a sleepover.

  I love my kids just as much as the next dad, but a night off from parenting and a Saturday morning to sleep in? You couldn’t ask for more than that. I dropped them off with their overnight bags, and they couldn’t even be bothered to give me a good-bye hug before they ran off into the wonderland that was their grandparents’ house.

  “I’ll be by tomorrow by eleven to pick them up,” I said to my mother as I handed the bags over to her. My parents started having kids early, but I was the youngest so by the time they’d had me they were close to thirty. I worried sometimes that overnight visits were too much for them. I wanted them to enjoy the kids, but not to the detriment of their health. “You can call me if you have any problems and I’ll come back to get them. All I have planned is this parent/teacher conference.”

  “There won’t be a problem,” my mother responded, looking at me like I might have offended her. “I raised five kids. I know how to handle little ones.”

  “Of course, Mom. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I know, baby,” she said, leaning over the threshold and pressing a kiss against my cheek. “Go. Be kid free for an evening.”

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shut the door before I was even done speaking. “All right then,” I said to myself. I turned and walked back down the driveway and got into my car.

  When I arrived at North Elm Elementary, I noticed the parking lot was empty aside from one or two cars. I figured Friday evenings weren’t the most popular time to be at a school. The front doors were still unlocked and I followed the instructions from Miss Richards’s e-mail to her classroom. The halls were empty too, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. The lights were dimmed and my footsteps echoed through the halls. An empty school was weirdly creepy.

  I found the door with Jaxy’s teacher’s name above, knocked lightly, and then pushed the door open slightly.

  “Miss Richards?” I called out softly.

  “Yes, please, come in,” a soft feminine voice replied. I pushed the door open, but didn’t see anyone. I took a step in, my eyes sweeping the room, and a brunette woman appeared from around the corner. She was looking down at the papers in her hand, but when she finally glanced up at me, she halted.

  My eyes narrowed at her and my brain started running a thousand miles an hour, trying desperately to figure out why she looked so familiar.

  She took the last two steps to me, her hand held out, but had an utterly confused look on her face that more than likely matched mine.

  “Grace Richards,” she said slowly as I took her hand.

  “Have we met—ˮ

  “Do I know you—ˮ

  We both spoke at the same time, our hands wrapped around each other’s.

  “You look really familiar,” I said slowly, moving our hands up and down even more slowly.

  “Did you come to the parent/teacher conferences at the beginning of the year?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied, shaking my head. “My mother came in my place.”

  Our hands were still joined, and we were still staring each other down, unable or unwilling to move past the weird sensation that we were obviously both having. After a few more moments of t
houghtful silence and slow hand shaking, her mouth formed into a perfect O and her free hand came up to cover it.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said, gently pulling her hand from mine.

  “What?” This was the strangest meeting I’d ever had.

  “You’re the crying man.”

  “The crying man?” I asked, pulling back in confusion.

  “Back in Fairbanks. At Ridgefield Elementary. I was a teacher there. And you were the man crying outside during parent/teacher conferences.”

  It took a moment or two to remember, but finally the puzzle piece fell into place. It was her. The poor woman who’d happened upon me as I had a nervous breakdown outside of Ruby’s second grade conferences. Olivia had only been gone a few months and I’d thought I could handle going alone, but I hadn’t been prepared to see all the mothers and fathers there with each other, all the couples and partners spending an evening together. It hadn’t occurred to me it would even be an issue. I hadn’t even made it to Ruby’s classroom before I lost my composure.

  “You were there,” she continued, “and I felt so helpless because there wasn’t anything to say or do.”

  Embarrassed, I ran my hand through my hair, trying to find the words. Any words. “Wow,” I finally managed. “This is awkward.” I gave a small laugh, trying to cover the fact that I felt very uncomfortable.

  “No, no, no,” she insisted. “I’m really glad to see you. I think about you all the time.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I think often about how you’re doing. You were so upset that night.”

  “It wasn’t my best moment.”

  Her eyebrows shot up as if she’d just came to another realization. “You’re Jax’s dad.”

  “Devon Roberts. Nice to meet you.”

  “Wow,” she whispered. “It really is a small world.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh, unsure of where to go from there.

  “Okay, so your son, Jax,” she said, moving the conversation along. “He’s a wonderful kid.” She led me to a long table at the front of her room. She took a seat on one side and motioned for me to sit across from her. “He’s a pleasure to have in class. Super attentive. Always eager to learn. Just a great kid. A great student.”

  “Uh, thanks. That’s good to hear.”

  She smiled and it caught my attention. It wasn’t the polite smile she’d forced when I’d first arrived, and it wasn’t the worried smile she’d given me when we’d realized how we’d previously met. It was a genuine smile. Soft and warm. It lit up her entire face, all the way to her eyes. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever noticed a brunette with blue eyes before—I must have known at least one—but her eyes were almost the color of the sky on a clear summer day. Deeply blue. She was radiant and the smile was reflective of that.

  She pulled some papers from a folder and spread them out in front of me.

  “These are the tests Jax took at the beginning of the year. We give these tests to gauge a baseline for all the students, so we can measure progress. As you can see, he scored high, well above his classmates.” She pulled out even more papers and laid them out the same way. “These are his test scores from earlier this month. As you can see,” she said, using her hands to delicately point out his scores, “his scores are now leaps and bounds above his grade level.”

  “That’s great,” I replied. I was out of my element.

  “It is great. But he’s not just smart. You see, the difference between a bright student and a talented and gifted student is very clear. Jax doesn’t just like learning, he isn’t doing his work because we ask him to, he loves learning. He seeks out knowledge and asks questions the other students, even the best of students, don’t think about asking.”

  “He’s always been very inquisitive.”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, her face brightening even more—something I wouldn’t have thought possible if I hadn’t witnessed it myself. “He’s constantly asking questions, always wanting to know more. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pull out my phone to look up the answers to questions he has. It’s incredible.” She took a breath, still smiling, and then pulled out another paper. “So, here’s the information on TAG. Right now, our school is offering a TAG class once a week after school on Fridays. We’re also planning for a field trip closer to the end of the year—somewhere educational like the zoo or the aquarium. There’s no cost to you. We’re required by law to offer specialized education to all students who demonstrate a need.”

  “And the class is taught by a teacher at this school?”

  “Oh, gosh, I should have mentioned—I am the TAG director here. So it’s taught by me.”

  “So, basically, what you’re saying is that Jaxy gets to stay after school on Fridays and take an extra class with other high-performing students?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She smiled again, and this time it was contagious. I smiled back.

  “Sounds like a no-brainer. Oh, except for transportation. Jaxy and his sister ride the bus to day care after school on Fridays.”

  “Oh, yes, Ruby. Jax talks about her a lot. He thinks she’s the best.” A little bit of warmth spread through me at her words. “Transportation isn’t an issue. We’re required to provide that as well. A bus will just take him to day care when we’re done, or the bus can take him home, or you can even pick him up. Whatever works for you.” She pulled another stack of papers from her folder and slid it over to me. “This is the admission form, and it spells everything out for you. You just fill it out and send it back to school with Jax, and he’ll be all set to go.”

  “It’s strange hearing someone call him Jax,” I said absently as I flipped through the papers.

  “Oh?”

  “We always call him Jaxy.” Her eyes went soft when I told her the nickname.

  “That’s sweet. He’s a really special boy.”

  “I agree.”

  “Well,” she said, letting out a sigh, “that’s all the info I have for you. I don’t want to keep you from your Friday night plans.”

  I let out a laugh. “My parents took the kids overnight, and my plans included this meeting. Now all that’s waiting for me is a quiet, empty house.” I said the words with more sadness than I anticipated. I was looking forward to having a night alone, but I hadn’t anticipated being lonely.

  “We’ve got that in common,” she said with a smile as she scooped up all the papers she’d laid out for me.

  Before I could even think about filtering the words, they tumbled out of my mouth. “Can I take you for a cup of coffee?” Her hands stilled, her fingers still grasping the papers, and her eyes met mine. “Not, like, a date,” I hurriedly stuttered, “just like a thank you coffee for crying all over you last time we met.”

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly, a worried look in her eyes.

  “No, you’re right. It’s a bad idea.” I stood up and, taking my packet of papers with me, moved toward the door. “It was nice meeting you… um… again.” I threw up a hasty wave, but just before I made it to the door, she stopped me.

  “Wait,” she called, her voice still sounding unsure. “There’s a great little bistro on Fifth Street downtown called Marco’s. They’re open late on Fridays. I was going to go there after work and grade some papers, maybe grab a sandwich. I’ll be there for the next few hours.”

  “You won’t mind a little distraction?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t.

  “Are you kidding? I talk to seven-year-olds all day. I would love to talk to an adult about something normal for a little while.” She smiled again and all my nerves dissipated. I didn’t know why I was nervous. It wasn’t like I’d asked her on a date. We were just two adults who didn’t have any plans and decided to grab something to eat.

  “Okay, I’ll see you there in a little while.” I waved again, this time a little less rabidly, and left. I made it into the hall and around the corner before I let out the breath I’d been holding. I ran a hand through my hair and kept wa
lking. It had been a very long time since I’d been alone with a woman. I hadn’t even thought about whether or not I was ready to take this step before I’d blurted out the words.

  My thoughts immediately went to Olivia, and even though it was ridiculous, I felt guilty for planning to meet with a woman. And as if my guiltometer needed to be calibrated, my phone rang in my pocket. It turned out to be Evelyn calling. I’d dodged her phone call earlier in the week and couldn’t bring myself to ignore her again. She didn’t deserve that.

  “Hey, Evie,” I answered, trying to sound upbeat.

  “Devon, hi. How are you?”

  “Good. Just leaving a conference with Jaxy’s teacher.”

  “Oh, yeah? Are the kids there?”

  “No, they’re with my mom.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “But that’s probably good. Do you have a second?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I replied, pushing the doors of the school open and walking out into the warm air of the night. The tone of Evie’s voice worried me though; she sounded like she had bad news. Or news she thought I wouldn’t take well.

  Evie and I had been on better terms since she’d come to visit us a few months before. There’d been a period when we didn’t really communicate. I let her talk to the kids whenever she wanted, encouraged it even. Evie was one of the last connections Ruby and Jaxy had to their mother and I would never keep her away, but it was too difficult to talk to her myself. But a lot of good had come of her visit. Seeing her happy and healthy went a long way to making me feel like we’d all made the right decisions, like we’d actually done what was best for everyone.

  “Nate and I want to fly to Florida during the kids’ spring break and take them to Disney World.” Evie pushed the words out rapidly and I knew she was nervous. I could tell by the tone of her voice she had her eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks bunched up, bracing for the worst. I could picture her in my head. “We don’t want to intrude, so if you already have plans, I completely understand. I just miss them and thought it would be something fun—ˮ