Ryan seemed to sink farther into his seat. His voice grew smaller. “That’s what he said.”
Lucia started up the car. It was getting late and if they didn’t leave now, they really were going to be late. Glancing at the boy’s expression, she could feel her heart going out to him. There were times that observing the awkwardness between father and son when they interacted was almost too painful.
“See,” Lucia said, doing her best to sound cheerful. “You need to wait until he asks.”
Ryan pressed his lips together, staring straight ahead. And then he raised his eyes to his ally. “What did I do, Lucia?”
“Do?” she questioned, not really sure what the boy was asking her.
Ryan nodded. “What did I do to make my father hate me?”
She was tempted to pull over and take the boy into her arms, but she knew that he wouldn’t welcome that. He wanted to be treated like an adult, so she did her best to oblige. “Oh, hijo, he doesn’t hate you.”
“Well, he doesn’t like me,” Ryan insisted, hopelessness echoing in his voice.
“It’s not that,” Lucia insisted. “Your father just doesn’t know how to talk to a little boy.” Or to anyone else, she added silently.
“You do,” Ryan said with feeling. “Can’t you teach him?”
Lucia let her true feelings out for a moment. “Oh, hijo, if I only could. But your father is not the kind of man who would allow himself to be taught by anyone. He doesn’t like to admit that he’s wrong. He is a very, very sad man.”
The expression on Ryan’s face was equally sad. “Because my mother left. I know.”
Lucia looked at the eight-year-old sharply, caught off guard by his response. “Who told you that?” she asked.
“Nobody,” he answered truthfully. “I heard Jake and Uncle Roy talking about my mother, about how everything would have been different if she had stayed with my dad.” The look on Ryan’s face was all earnestness as he asked, “Did she go because of me? Is that why Dad doesn’t like me?”
Not for the first time, Lucia had a strong desire to box her employer’s ears. “Oh no, Ryan, no. She didn’t leave because of you. Your mother left because she didn’t want to live on the ranch. She wanted something more exciting in her life.”
“More exciting than horses?” Ryan questioned, mystified that anyone could feel that way. He loved the horses as well as the cattle. Uncle Roy had taught him how to ride when he was barely old enough to walk. The horse had actually been a pony at the time, but it still counted as far as Ryan was concerned. He had loved being on a horse ever since that day.
Lucia looked at him sympathetically. “I’m afraid so.”
Ryan just couldn’t understand. “But what could be more exciting?” he asked, puzzled.
“That was what your mother wanted to find out.” Lucia flashed a smile in the boy’s direction. “She didn’t realize that she was leaving behind the most exciting part of her life.”
Ryan’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the hair hanging over his forehead. “Dad?” he questioned.
Lucia bit back a laugh. The boy was absolutely and sweetly unassuming. “No, you.”
Ryan frowned at the answer. He stared at the tips of his boots, waving his feet back and forth slightly. “I’m not exciting.”
“Oh, but you are,” Lucia assured him. “And you’re only going to get more exciting the more you learn. For that,” she pointed out, “I’m afraid that you’re going to have to go to school. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Ryan sighed and then nodded. “I guess so.”
The housekeeper caught the hitch in his voice. “Ryan, you’re not having any trouble at school, are you?” she asked, peering at his face.
Ryan shook his head. “No.”
“None of the kids are picking on you, are they?” Lucia asked. “You can tell me if they are.”
“No,” he answered, then added quietly, “None of the kids even know I’m there.”
Lucia tried something else. “How about your teacher? Do you like her?”
“Yes, I guess so.” He shrugged again, then modified his answer. “She’s okay.”
Because she was trying to get the boy to open up to her, Lucia tried to encourage him to keep talking. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”
Looking slightly bewildered, Ryan asked, “What do you want to know?”
Lucia thought for a moment. “Well, to begin with, what’s your teacher’s name?”
For the first time that morning, possibly that week, Lucia heard the small boy giggle. It was a charming sound, like a boy who adores his teacher.
He grinned as he answered, “Her name is Ms. Chee. She is Native American and used to live right here in Forever when she was a little girl.”
“On the reservation?” Lucia asked the boy.
Ryan thought for a moment, as if checking the facts he had stored in his head. And then he shook his head. “No, she said she used to live in a house on the skirts of town.”
“Outskirts?” Lucia tactfully suggested.
Ryan’s small, angular face lit up. “Yeah, that’s it. Outskirts. That’s kind of a funny word.”
“Yes, it is,” Lucia readily agreed. She’d heard that the new second/third grade teacher had moved into a house in town. “Did Ms. Chee say why she didn’t live there anymore?”
Ryan thought for a moment, then remembered. “Oh, yeah. She said when she came back to Forever, she found out that the house burned down a few years ago. She was sad when she talked about it.”
Lucia tried to remember if she recalled hearing anything about a fire taking place near the town. And then a vague memory nudged her brain.
“Was Ms. Chee talking about the old Stewart house?” She remembered that the house had been empty for a number of years before a squatter had accidentally set fire to it while trying to keep warm. The wooden structure had gone up in no time flat. By the time the fire brigade had arrived, there was nothing really left to save.
Ryan nodded. “Uh-huh.” He could see his school coming into view up ahead. Growing antsy, he shifted in his seat and began to move his feet back and forth again. “I think so.”
Now that she had him talking, Lucia was loath to stop him. “What else did your teacher tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me. She told the class,” Ryan corrected her.
Lucia had noticed that the boy was very careful about making sure that all his facts were precisely stated. She nodded, accepting the revised narrative.
“Did Ms. Chee say anything else to the class?”
“She said lots of stuff,” Ryan replied honestly. “She’s the teacher.”
Lucia tried not to laugh. “I meant anything more personal. Something about herself.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “Just that she liked teaching.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.” Lucia stopped the car right before the school’s doors. “Now, go in and learn something.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan replied dutifully as he slid out of the passenger seat and then closed the car door behind him.
Lucia watched him square his small shoulders before heading