Winter's Child - Part 6

The question, had his father’s death been his fault, continued to haunt James in the days following the funeral. Margaret tried, at first, to offer him comfort, but he would not be comforted. Even Joey’s enthusiasm about starting school failed to raise his spirits.

There was a part of James that blamed Margaret. She’d been the one so adamant about moving Joseph to the nursing home. Like the old man at the funeral said, Joseph had been born on the mountain. He’d always hated having to make the trip to town for any reason and would put it off as long as possible. His room in the nursing home had overlooked a garden, and while it was pretty enough, it was not the view of his mountain.

Of course there was another part of him that knew he was being unreasonable. The bulk of care for Joseph had fallen on Margaret’s shoulders. It hadn’t been fair – she’d already given up a lot to stay home with Joey, and then the stress of having to deal with Joseph on top of that . . .

No, he couldn’t blame Margaret, it was all on him. Maybe there was a part of him that had wanted his father out of the house too. Lord knew his presence had caused a lot of friction. It wasn’t just the care he needed, it was his influence over Joey. And he had very strong opinions on just about everything.

Pulling his attention back to the lecture he was working on, he checked his watch and cursed under his breath. Time to go pick Joey up from school. As agreed, once Joey started school, Margaret went back to working in the office instead of from home. Of course having Joseph stay with them had pushed that back a few weeks. They were fortunate she had a job where she could work from home.

And they were also fortunate to have several friends with teenagers they could call on for babysitting when the need arose. Like today, for instance. Margaret had a late afternoon meeting, and James had a lecture. He had just enough time to pick up Joey and the babysitter and drop them off at home before he had to be back.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, as Joey came running to him from the school yard. “How was school today?”

“Good! I can write my name!”

“That’s great,” James told him, hustling him towards the car. “You’ll have to show me later.”

“I can show you now,” Joey told him. He paused and started to remove his back pack.

“Sorry bud, it’ll have to be later. We have to hurry to pick up Christine.”

“Chrissy, yay!” Joey said, racing towards the car. Chrissy was his favorite babysitter.

He strapped Joey into his car seat and then fought the after school traffic across town to the high school where Christine was waiting for them.

“Hi, Mr. Preston. Hi, Joey,” Christine said as she slid into the car.

“Chrissy! I can write my name!”

“That’s cool, Joey. You’ll have to show me when we get home.”

James dropped them off, with the promise that someone would be home by eight. Then it was back to the university and into the lecture hall with ten minutes to spare. James pushed the guilt feelings over his father to the back of his mind and focused on his job.

Later, when the lecture was over and the students gone, the guilt returned. He’d moved on from feeling guilty over putting his father in the nursing home, to feeling guilty over the fact he and his father had lost the closeness they once had. He should have tried harder, made more of an effort. But he hadn’t even shed a tear for the old man.

“You don’t need to worry about giving me a ride home,” Christine told him when he finally arrived home. “My boyfriend, Brandon, can pick me up. We have a study date anyway.”

“Boyfriend, eh?” James teased. “What does your father think of that?”

Christine rolled her eyes. “He’s done everything but run a back ground check. But mom knows his mom so it’s all good.”

“Listen, I know it’s short notice, but are you free Saturday night? I promised Margaret I’d take her to dinner, and maybe a movie.”

“Date night, eh?” Christine asked with a grin. “I’d love to look after Joey – he’s dead easy to look after. And Brandon’s working anyway.”

“Great!” James heard a car and glanced out the window as an ancient Toyota Corolla pulled up to the house. It was a mottled blue and rust colour, and seemed to be held together with chewing gum and prayers. “I think your boyfriend’s here.”

“Bye, Joey,” Christine called. She pulled on her jacket. “See you Saturday night, Mr. Preston.”

James shook his head and went into the living room. Joey had paper and crayons scattered around him and he was busy working away at a picture on the coffee table.

“C’mon, Joey. Time for bed.”

“Just one more minute?” Joey pleaded. “I’m almost done.”

James moved closer. “What are you drawing?”

“It’s one of winter’s children. Do you think Grandpa will like it?”