Misty and the Single Dad

they’d always said, only this time with the rider: ‘I told you so.’

Moving to Banksia Bay meant Bailey was spared sloppy kisses.

He looked at Misty and he thought…kisses equal germs?

His grin faded.

‘We need to go home,’ he said, and he knew he sounded harsh but he couldn’t help himself. What he was feeling was suddenly pushing him right out of his comfort zone. This was his kid’s schoolteacher. He’d touched her. He shouldn’t have touched her.

He shouldn’t want to touch her.

But she was right beside him, and she was warm, open and loving in a way he could only sense. She was smiling a question at him now, wondering at the sudden change in his tone.

She wouldn’t react with anger, he thought, flashing back to Isabelle’s moments of fury, of unreasonable temper. Here was a woman who saw everything on an equable plane. Who moved through life with serenity and peace.

And beauty. She really was beautiful, he thought. Those eyes…those curls…

No. He had to leave.

‘We need to get moving,’ he told his son, rising too fast. ‘Let’s get this gear up to the house and go.’

‘I don’t want to go home.’ Bailey’s voice was slurred by sleep. He was nestled against Ketchup, peaceful now as he hadn’t been peaceful for a year. Or more. Maybe never? ‘Why can’t we stay here?’

‘We can’t sleep on the beach.’

‘I mean in Miss Lawrence’s house.’ It was as if Bailey was dreaming, drifting into fantasy. ‘I could sleep in one of her big, big beds. Me and Ketchup. I could see Ketchup every morning.’

What the…? The idea took his breath away. ‘Miss Lawrence doesn’t want us here.’

‘Ketchup wants us here.’

‘No,’ Misty said, sounding strange. She also rose, and she looked just as taken aback as he was. ‘That’s not a good idea, Bailey. You have a house.’

But suddenly Bailey was fully awake, sitting up, considering his suggestion with care. ‘Our house is horrid. And we could help look after Ketchup.’

‘I can look after Ketchup on my own.’

‘He likes me.’

‘I know he does,’ she said. She stooped and hugged Bailey, then lifted Ketchup into her arms. ‘But Ketchup’s my dog. Your dad’s paid his bills and that’s all the help I’ll ask. I look after Gran and I look after Ketchup. I can’t look after anyone else. I’m sorry, but you and your dad are on your own.’

CHAPTER FIVE

SHE needed to visit Gran. She needed to find her balance.

Once Nick and Bailey were out of sight she settled Ketchup back into her car. He’d be best off sleeping in his basket at home, but every time she walked away he started shaking.

She could worry about Ketchup. She couldn’t worry about Bailey and his father.

She couldn’t think about Bailey’s father.

Was it only yesterday she’d been celebrating Adonis arriving in her classroom? One touch and her equilibrium was shattered.

Think about the dog. Much, much safer.

‘You’ve sucked me in,’ she murmured. ‘Where did you come from, and how exposed have you made me? Oh, Ketchup.’

But he hadn’t made her exposed-he’d simply shown her what life was. Yurts were fantasy. Ketchup was real.

Bailey was real.

She was a total sucker.

‘I’m sorry, but you and your dad are on your own.’ She’d watched Bailey’s face as she’d said it and she’d seen him become…stoical.

She’d been stoical at six. For all her bravado about not needing her mother…surviving on postcards had hardly been survival at all.

She’d ached to go with her. Other kids had mothers. She’d got postcards in the mail.

Bailey got nothing.

He had his dad. It was more than she’d ever had.

No, she told herself sharply. She’d had grandparents who loved her. But grandparents never, ever made up for what a mother was supposed to be. She had a clear idea of what was right, even at six.

‘So you’re thinking you can possibly turn yourself into a substitute mother for Bailey? Take them in and coddle them?

‘Of course I can’t.’ She was talking to herself, out loud, the habit of a woman who lived alone.

‘Why not? The place they’re in is awful. You’ve been looking for tenants for months. Bailey would love living with Ketchup. Why reject them out of hand?

‘Because Nicholas scares me.’

Think about it.

She did think.

She couldn’t stop thinking.

She was out of her mind.

‘Why can’t we live with Miss Lawrence?’

There were a million reasons. He couldn’t tell his son any of them.

Except one.

‘You heard her. She said no. I think Miss Lawrence likes living alone.’

‘She doesn’t. She said she tried to rent part of her house. And we wouldn’t have to move furniture.’

Why was he blessed with a smart kid with big ears?

‘Maybe she wants a single person. Maybe another lady.’

‘We’re better than a lady.’ Bailey wriggled down into his seat and thought about it. ‘It’d be good. I really like Ketchup.’

Nick thought Ketchup was okay, too. Ketchup and Bailey touching noses. Bailey truly happy for the first time since his mother died. Ketchup had made him smile.

‘Maybe we could get our own dog,’ he said and then he heard what he’d said and couldn’t believe it.

Here was a perfect example of mouth operating before head. Was he out of his mind? Where were his resolutions?

But he’d said it, and it was too late to haul it back. Bailey’s face lit like a Christmas tree. ‘We can get a dog?’ he breathed.

‘Maybe we can,’ he said, feeling winded. ‘Seeing as we can’t live with Miss Lawrence.’

But Bailey had moved past Miss Lawrence. He was only seeing four legs and a tail. ‘I can have a dog of my own?’

Miss Lawrence had a lot to answer for, he decided. His plans had not included a dog. ‘A young dog,’ he said. That, at least, was sensible. A young healthy dog wouldn’t cause grief. A young dog probably wouldn’t cause grief.

He’d have to reinforce fences, he thought. He’d have to keep the dog safe, too.

‘He’ll be able to play with Ketchup,’ Bailey said, not hearing his reservations. He was almost rigid with excitement. ‘Do you think we can find a dog who’ll touch noses? Me and Ketchup touch noses. Like you and Miss Lawrence touch hands.’

‘That’s got nothing to do…’

But Bailey wasn’t listening. The touching hands thing was simply a passing fact. ‘Dogs are great,’ he said,