"And your coach got you a passing grade anyway, right?"
"Nope, I read the stuff and got Cs."
"I could give him an oral exam."
"That's his real problem you know—he can't write a coherent sentence to save his life."
"English 101 has to answer to that."
' 'He had it two years ago—''
Kyle raised the hand holding his glasses. "I don't want to know."
"That's probably best," the coach agreed, nodding.
' 'Have Brad come to my office an hour before the final. And tell him he'll still have to sit through the written exam—at least attempt it."
Technically, he supposed it wasn't fair to the other students, who could all stand a much better
HER SECRET, HIS CHILD
chance of acing the test if they could answer orally, too. But if there was one thing he'd learned in the past couple of months, it was that life wasn't always fair. Each life was lived on a case-by-case basis, and sometimes the old rules, the rules you'd established or learned or adopted, didn't work. Then you had to find new ones.
Coach Lippert smiled. A genuine, friendly smile. "He'll be there." He turned to leave. Made it all the way to the door. And then turned back. "Rad-cliff?"
Head bent over his calendar, Kyle glanced up.
"Thanks."
Nodding, he made the entry for Brad's oral exam. In both calendars. And made a note to tell Jamie, too. She still asked about Brad occasionally. She'd make sure Kyle remembered to attend the kid's final exam on time.
Karen and Jamie had their last flute lesson the second week in April. They'd both decided to leave their flute-playing desires right where they belonged. In their adolescent pasts.
Kyle was happy either way. He kind of liked nagging Jamie to practice, mostly because there was so little she didn't do perfectly. But he was just as happy for her to have an extra free hour a week. He'd been keeping Ashley out of her way a lot during the past month or so as she got closer and closer to the tax deadline. But the fifteenth had just come and gone, and Jamie wa
s smiling again.
In celebration of the last lesson, the end of tax
TARA TAYLOR QUINN
time and the fifth month of Karen's pregnancy, Kyle offered to look after both girls for the rest of the day so the two women could go out for a celebratory afternoon as soon as they'd blown their last note.
Which meant that Kyle got to take both girls to their dance lesson. Because Kayla had started lessons too late to learn the recital dance, Ashley had opted to skip the performance, as well, and would be finishing her classes next week. Having experimented with dance, they'd both be going on to tiny-tot tumbling in the fall.
"Daddy, I can't get my shoe on." Ashley hopped over to Kyle on one foot, her ballet shoe tangled around the ball of her foot. They were in a deserted waiting room in the studio, Kyle having taken the girls to class half an hour earlier than their scheduled time.
"Hold on, Ash." After setting Kayla down in a chair, one shoe on and one shoe off, he grabbed for Ashley. She had the shoe on backward, the elastic wrapped around her foot.
Just as he reached for her, she took one more hop. And slipped through his hands. Kyle's heart was in his throat as he watched her land on the side of her foot and topple to the floor.
"Daddy!" she cried, even before she fell in a heap.
Scrambling to get up, she stretched out her arms for Kyle, her eyes flooded with tears. Kyle scooped her up before her second wail.
"It's okay, honey," he assured her, feeling awful. "Let Daddy see."
HER SECRET, HIS CHILD