Fireside by Susan Wiggs (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

themselves up and off to school. If a kid showed up wearing the wrong thing, or smelling weird, or looking somehow different from the other kids, he was toast.

“Wait! Lunch money. You need lunch money.” Bo fished a wad of bills from his pocket and handed AJ a twenty. “I don’t have anything smaller, but that ought to cover it,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

AJ hesitated. Then he said, “I think I’m supposed to buy a punchcard.”

Oh, yeah. Sophie had mentioned the card situation, but Bo hadn’t paid close enough attention to the details. When she’d first spoken of school and other long-term plans, Bo had still been in denial. He’d felt sure the whole AJ situation would be resolved quickly, or that somehow, things would magically take care of themselves. It had taken a few days, and lots of meetings with Sophie about the legal situation, for reality to sink in. AJ wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Bo fished out another twenty and handed it over. “I don’t know what one of those cards costs. Better safe than sorry.” If it turned out the punchcard cost a hundred bucks, he’d gladly pay it. He’d pay any price if it meant AJ would cooperate. “What else? Did we get everything at the store the other day? Paper and pencils? A…what do you call those curvy things? A protractor?”

“A French curve,” said Kim, breezing into the kitchen. “Morning, AJ. Morning, Bo.”

The moment she entered, the air shifted. Even the light seemed to change, as though more of the sun’s rays were allowed to leak through the brooding clouds. She looked like a model in a mattress commercial, well rested and effortlessly beautiful.

“Coffee?” Bo offered.

“In a minute.” She turned to smile at AJ. “I caught you just in time.”

As usual, Bo couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore a black turtleneck dress, black stockings and high-heeled ankle boots, hoop earrings and pink lipstick. There was no better-looking outfit for a redhead than all black.

She handed AJ a sack. “Just a few things for school,” she said. “Some folders, a binder and spiral notebooks. A calculator and a ruler. A French curve and a protractor. I hate to say it, but you’re probably going to need a protractor. Math teachers love giving problems with angles, don’t they?” As she spoke, she fixed herself a cup of coffee. Skim milk, no sugar.

“Thanks,” AJ said. He peeled off one glove, reopened the backpack and stuffed in the extra supplies.

Bo was amazed. She’d managed to come up with most of the things he’d neglected to get at the store. He caught her eye, adding a nod of thanks. “Well,” he said, “better get to the bus stop.” He walked to the front door with AJ. “You take care, now,” he said. “I’ll see you after school.”

“’Bye.” AJ went out the door, into the cold semidark of the winter morning. He headed down the long walk that bisected the snow-covered yard and turned onto the lane leading to the street. In the bluish light, his shoulders hunched against the cold, he resembled a condemned man walking the Green Mile. He shuffled along at an old man’s gait, with his eyes on the ground and his shoulders hunched up. Halfway down the block was the bus shelter, where a few kids had already gathered.

Bo shut the door against the cold, though he stood in place, looking out until AJ disappeared into the shadows. “Dammit,” Bo muttered, taken aback by the pain he felt. Hurting for a child was unexpectedly intense. “Dammit all to hell.”

“That went well,” said a soft voice behind him.

“You think?” He turned to Kim. “I wanted to give him a ride, at least on his first day. He said he didn’t want me to.”

“Then you’re smart to respect his wishes.”

“I had no idea it would be this hard.”

“I don’t think this is supposed to be easy.” She glared at him, a challenge. “I’m no expert on parenting, but I do know that much.”

“Just because there’s nobody to be pissed at doesn’t mean I’m not pissed. I’m no expert, either. Most people get a chance to adjust to being a parent. I’m still adjusting. My being a father was just an act of biology.” He turned to her, not bothering to hide the genuine pain in his eyes. “I thought I’d spend the winter getting a crash course in major-league baseball, but what I need is a crash course in being a father. I don’t have the first idea how to do that.”

“Well, guess what? You don’t have time for a crash course. AJ needs you to be a father now. He needs you to be present now. Don’t worry about getting it perfect. Sometimes you just have to be there. Just be what he needs.”

Bo kind of liked it when she got all bossy like this. “I hear you, coach. How’d you get so smart?”

“I’m not smart.”

He studied her face, pretty even when she was being serious. She wore makeup every day, expertly applied, but still, he could see a fading, nearly undetectable bruise under her left eye. The makeup camouflaged it—almost. But growing up the way he had, Bo knew how a woman looked when she was trying to hide the fact that somebody had hit her. He knew she’d get mad if he said anything, so he just kept quiet.

She headed back toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I feel bad for you and AJ.”

“Does this mean you’re starting to like me? Maybe just a little?”

“It means I feel bad for you.”

Okay, he thought. From a woman like this, he’d take what he could get. “I just wish I could wave my hand and make all his troubles go away,” he said.

“If you did that, you wouldn’t be a father. You’d be a comic-strip character or a, I don’t know, a superhero. Listen, AJ has to go to school, no matter