A Son's Tale

Partially because she’d been watching the clock. Thinking about him. And his date.

Wondering if he’d call.

Pathetic.

And partially because her heart leaped into her throat when the ringtone sounded.

“Hello?” Her greeting was slightly hurried. Had she left it too late? Had he already been sent to voice mail?

Was she weak for answering?

“It’s Cal. You busy?”

“No. Just sorting buttons into color-coded compartments so the four-year-olds can glue them to the pictures they drew today. It’s a spatial as well as a color-recognition assignment. The buttons are in place of crayons.”

Like he cared. She was babbling.

His self-possessed, kind-looking, beautiful date didn’t babble. Morgan was certain of that.

She also wasn’t a student like Morgan. She’d talked about meeting a student, which meant she was a teacher, like Cal. Probably an art prof at Wallace judging by what she’d said about something drying in the kiln.

“What was their drawing assignment?”

“Full-body self-portraits. They could be standing still or doing something.”

He chuckled, and she closed her bedroom door, sinking down on the edge of her bed. She’d put on her pink striped, capri-length pajamas an hour before.

“I’ll bet they were interesting.”

Smiling, she dug her toes into the light blue old shag carpet that she’d replace if the place were hers. And she could afford new carpet. “One little guy had himself pulling chocolate cookies out of the oven.”

“You could tell that by looking at his picture?”

“No, he told me.”

“Do you always have the four-year-olds?”

“No, I teach the four-year-old class on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the summer, and do administrative work the rest of the time. Officially I’m assistant to the director, Bonnie Blake, but she’s really good about working around my classes. I also fill in for the regular teachers when they need me to.”

“You like the work?”

Pulling her feet up on the bed, she tucked them under her legs. “I really do. Which is something my father was never able to understand. He didn’t think I should work at all, but if I insisted on it, then I should get a job where I have the possibility of making real money.”

“He doesn’t think caring for young children is good enough for you? Does he understand that you’re shaping the future of this country?”

“Spoken like a true educator!” Morgan smiled again. And then sobered. “How was your date?”

“Fine.”

That was it. He didn’t offer up anything about who she was. Or how her lasagna tasted. He didn’t even say the date was over. For all she knew the woman was doing the dishes while Cal excused himself to make a call to one of his students.

“How was the meeting with Leslie?” he asked when her silence hung between them.

Fine, she was tempted to say. Meant to say. What came out was, “She thinks that Sammie needs male companionship.”

“She’s going to recommend that your father get custody?” His incredulous tone did her heart good.

“She didn’t say that. Nor did she say she wouldn’t. She gave me no indication at all how she was going to weigh in at the hearing. She just talked about Sammie. She thinks he needs a man in his life.”