Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(86)
My motherly hackles rose at his description of Kimmy. I felt like crossing my arms, so I did. “Is that so?”
He grinned, clearly not picking up on my maternal hostility. “Yeah, that’s so. Mean and clever, a rebel. I suppose I liked her so much because she reminds me of myself at her age. It’s like spending time with a younger me. Her belligerence is . . . fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yeah, fun.” He laughed, not looking my way, clearly lost in a memory. “Remember how earlier today she told you I’d been explaining all about my job? Well, she did the same thing to her grandma before you showed up and your mother almost had a fit.” He laughed harder. “You should’ve seen her face. I thought she was going to faint.”
My hackles reduced from a boil to a simmer and I stared at him, disbelieving my ears.
He wasn’t quite finished. “But I get Kimmy, I do. I bet she picks fights with you all the time, right? The worst thing you can do is fight back or take her too seriously. I mean, that’s the absolute worst thing. If she’s anything like me, she needs someone to make a joke—not about her, but about something else, something unrelated—and snap her out of it. That’s what Beau always used to do, for me and for his twin brother. But don’t worry, I grew out of it. Mostly.”
A new kind of incredulity overcame me and I asked before I could stop myself, “And Joshua? Sonya?”
“Oh, now that Joshua, he’s the best. Not saying I have a favorite—I definitely don’t, how could I?—but that kid is something else. Well, you were there. You saw him reading that paper, and he understands everything he reads. He spent a half hour, give or take, explaining all about the Fed and interest rates. What an interesting kid. I could’ve talked to him all day. And he’s sweet with his sister, with Sonya.” Hank paused for a moment, considering something, then went on, “But he needs to use a tissue to blow his nose, right? Why’s he always using his sleeve or his finger? Something for him to work on.”
What alternate reality had I stumbled upon, where Hank Weller knew my children better after just one encounter than their father did after years of living with us day in and day out? The last time I’d asked Kevin his opinion about a gift for Joshua, he’d said, “Get him, you know, whatever boys like.”
Kevin didn’t know Joshua at all, and he certainly never made any effort to know Kimmy or diffuse her temper.
While I struggled to process this, Hank continued conversationally, “Sonya needs to work on blowing her nose, too. Not to tell you your business, but it’d be good if Joshua set the example there. Otherwise, what a cutie—so sweet, so loving. I think her smile could melt chocolate. But she’s smart, right? You can tell by her eyes. There’s a lot going on there. I suspect she leans into the cutie-patootie bit to get her way.” He tilted his head, apparently considering. “I’m guessing it works all the time.”
Incredulous and overwhelmed, I blinked against the sudden stinging behind my eyes.
“I’d like to know them better, especially your youngest, if that’s agreeable to you,” he said. “No pressure, though. You’re their momma and know what’s best. I’ll do whatever you want, and no matter what you decide, I still accept your terms.” Hank hooked his thumbs in his pockets, watching me while I watched him. After a time, his stare uncertain, he scratched his chin again. “But don’t expect me to like their friends. I still don’t like kids. Just yours. And Jethro’s.”
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of me while I stared at this strange creature. Knowing my kids and truly liking them for who they were, he couldn’t have more effectively stolen my heart.
“How about this, then,” I said, swallowing around a fair bit of emotion. “We won’t tell the kids we’re dating, not for a while, but you have an open invitation to come over and get to know them better whenever you’d like.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” He seemed honestly concerned. “What will you tell folks if they see me there? People will recognize my truck and all my other cars. Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”
“If they notice or if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m still helping you with bookkeeping for the club. I’ll say I need the extra income—which is sorta true.” It was the best I could come up with, the best compromise. I understood folks might gossip about me, my mother never let me forget it. On the off chance someone spied Hank’s truck in my driveway and demanded to know my personal business, I figured this half truth should protect the kids from any censure.
Hank opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but before he could speak, I pressed a finger to his lips to stem his thought so I could finish mine, my momma-bear protective instincts and our long-ago shared history pushing me to say, “One last thing: don’t make promises to my children you can’t keep. Don’t say you’re going to show up if you can’t or won’t. Don’t stand them up. If you’re going to break someone’s heart, break mine. Okay?”
Donning a consternated frown, he captured my hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m not breaking any hearts,” he said firmly, bending and whispering just before our lips met, “least of all yours.”
CHAPTER 23