37. He Found a Father
He Found a Father
Toby
The grass was perfect.
Perfect .
Zach’s parents had a place in the outer suburbs, an older-style brick, but it was as neat as a pin. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the manicured lawn as I walked from the car, along their driveway, and up the front stairs.
Heaven .
I knocked on the screen door, and footsteps thundered inside before it swung open.
“Thanks for coming,” Zach panted, his cheeks creasing with a smile. “Sorry about the last-minute venue change.”
Zach could’ve changed the venue of our catch-up to Antarctica, and I still would’ve rocked up. What a morning—the police station and then the silent war zone raging in the car when I’d dropped Gwen off at work. I needed the distraction.
“Everything okay?” I asked him.
Zach waved off my worries. “Josie’s three going on thirty, remember? She informed me this morning she needed to play House Ladies with Nana today.”
“House…Ladies?”
“Nana and Josie look after their babies, cook, and clean. There’s been a failed lesson about laundry. Oh, and I’ll warn you—the tiny terror oversees the menu.” He grinned. “I hope you like fajitas.”
I laughed. “Your ladies have good taste.”
I trailed behind Zach as he led me through his parents’ house. This place was nothing like the show home I’d grown up in. I gaped at the well-loved but cozy furniture and family photos crowding the rooms as we passed on our way to the kitchen.
Josie was there. Her dark hair curled in two pigtails, and wearing red dungarees stretched over her jutting belly, she stood on a step stool, watching, fascinated, as Zach’s mother sliced a bell pepper into strips.
An upside-down baby doll, completely nudie rudie, dangled at Josie’s side, held fast by the arm she’d crooked around the poor thing’s neck.
“Look who’s here!” Zach said.
Josie grinned, but Maree Rawles—yikes, she did not like me. Her lips pursed when Zach announced my arrival, and when she lifted her gaze from the chopping board to pin me across the room, her eyes narrowed behind the purple glasses perched low on her nose.
I’d seen that same look at Alfie’s birthday party. We’d had a brief introduction full of pleasantries about the weather. Awkward.
I forced a smile, desperate for her to like me. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Rawles.”
Maree’s lips pressed into a flat line. Zach coughed. Her eyes darted to him, and he put his hand on his hip, a pointed look thrown in her direction. Words had been exchanged before I’d arrived.
“Good morning, Toby.” Maree’s voice was clipped. “How was the drive?”
“Uh, quick. The traffic was good.” I fidgeted with my belt loop. Could there be a more awkward conversation? I tried out a smile on Josie instead. “Hey, JoJo.” I nodded at her baby doll. “Who do you have there?”
The little girl lifted a proud chin. “Morag Destiny Tomato the Second.”
I nodded, trying to be very serious, even though a chuckle threatened to escape. That was one heck of a name for a doll. “She sounds like a very fancy baby.”
“Yes.” Josie grinned.
I pointed to her dolly’s naked tooshie. “Doesn’t a baby as fancy as Morag Destiny Tomato the Second need a diaper?”
Josie’s face screwed up. “She know howta go potty. She a big girl.” She huffed. “You right, Nana. He not smart.”
Zach coughed into his fist.
“Now, Josie, my girl.” Maree patted the little girl’s arm to hush her. “Were you and your baby listening at the door again?”
Josie curled her lip. That was a yes.
“Quiet words behind the door are just for Nana and Pop,” Maree explained gently.
How many of these quiet words had they needed to have before I’d arrived? Yeah, Maree Rawles definitely didn’t like me.
“Sorry, mate,” Zach interrupted with an awkward laugh. “You’ve got a lot to learn about fancy babies and playing House Ladies.” He jerked his head toward the back door. “Why don’t we say hi to Dad?”
“Good idea,” Maree muttered.
Zach grimaced but didn’t push the issue.
He opened the screen door and gestured for me to follow him to the back deck.
I pulled up to a stop as soon as my eyes landed on the backyard.
A cubby house and swing set stood proudly beside a sandpit and a landscaped pool with a slide. My mouth dropped open.
“Wow,” I breathed, curling my hands over the back railing and leaning over to get a better look. “I’m taking notes. This yard is fantastic.”
Zach adjusted his glasses, peering down. “Yeah?” He squinted another look. He obviously wasn’t a lawn guy like his dad. “The pool’s pretty great. You should bring Noah and Gwen over for a swim one weekend.”
“Count us in.” I let out an awed sigh. “Man, I’d kill for a yard like this. Our place cost a bomb, but the yard’s a matchbox. No space for all this.” I waved at every mirage glittering from the back deck. “You’ve even got enough room to kick a ball around.”
“Uh, yeah…” He rubbed the stubble darkening his chin. “Sure.”
I arched my eyebrow. “Well, I’ve already discovered you’re shit at running.” I grinned. “Do you like any sports?”
“I go to the gym and do some outdoor stuff, remember? I’m not totally hopeless. Hey—you should come up to the Blue Mountains with me and my friend Andie. We’re planning a hike next weekend.”
“Seriously?” My jaw dropped. “I could come?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s a good trail.” He smirked. “Easy for a beginner.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sounds right up your alley then.”
Zach laughed. “Come on. Dad’s in the garage.” He took off down the steps to the backyard. “I have a feeling you’re going to like this.”
“Yeah?” I jumped down the stairs after him two at a time, easily keeping up, right behind him as he opened the garage door. “Why’s that? Has your dad—”
I stopped dead in my tracks. My brain fizzed and spluttered like the vintage red Ford Falcon proudly sitting in the middle of the garage. If I had to guess, the car was from the early 1960s. She was a beauty.
“Wow.” The word whooshed out in a breath of pure awe.
Zach’s dad, John, was leaning over a long wooden workbench, an engine torn down and laid out in pieces in front of him. Grease stained his gloves, a rounded black piston pinched between his fingers.
“Morning.” Only a faint smile tugged at John’s lips when he nodded at us.
The only word I could find in response was “Wow.” I turned to Zach. “Is that a Ford Falcon Futura?”
“Uh…” Zach’s eyes darted to his dad, pleading for help.
John laughed. “Sure is, mate.”
“1960?” I asked.
John cocked his head. “It’s a ’62.” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “You know cars?”
I nodded. “Classics like this? Never had one, but…” I’d dreamed of getting one. Stupid teenage dreams. I ran my fingertips over the mix of sleek red paint and rust on the side panel. “You restoring it?”
“Sure am,” he said. “I need something to keep me out of trouble with the ladies upstairs.”
I grinned. “You working on the engine now?”
“Yeah. Just finished tearing it down, and I’m working my way through what needs to be replaced.” He pointed to the back wall where his neatly arranged tools hung on a corkboard. “Mind passing me the pliers?”
Without thinking, I headed straight for the tools. “You getting the pistons ready for cleaning?” I glanced over my shoulder. Zach hovered by the door. My gaze flitted between the tools and him. I was a terrible guest. “Oh, uh…should I…?”
Zach waved me off. “You’re good. I’m going to head upstairs.” He smiled. “Alfie should finish his nap soon. I’ll hang out with him, reading books and steering clear of the bossy ladies. I’ll grab you guys when lunch is ready.”
“Thanks, man.”
The slap of Zach’s hand was friendly on my shoulder before he disappeared.
How much time passed in the garage? No idea.
But I had the best time. I worked alongside John, and neither of us said much, focusing instead on examining what needed to be replaced and carefully cleaning anything that could be saved.
After finishing a line of valves, John opened the bar fridge under the bench. I shook my head when he offered me a beer, so he slid a soda along the wood instead. He hooked his sneaker around the leg of a stool and dragged it out for me to sit down.
“What do you do for work?” He pulled out the other stool and leaned his hip into the edge. “A trade?”
“Nah.” I grinned. “Dentist.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He laughed. “You work on cars with your dad?”
“Nah, he wasn’t… Not his thing, you know?”
“Yeah.” He cocked his chin. “Is he a dentist, too?”
“No… He was a… He, um…” Whatever look was on my face told John the words I couldn’t quite spit out.
His face fell. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Why did people always say that? Sorry . Some people might’ve been sorry my father died.
Me. His favorite, Tanya. Not my mother. She’d never shed a single tear.
The only other person who’d seemed upset by his death was Abi.
Ian’s mother was soft-spoken but so bubbly and full of hugs.
I’d often daydreamed she was my mum when we were growing up.
Had she been my dad’s friend? Had he even had any real friends?
Maybe he and I were more alike than I thought.
“That’s okay,” I said with a tight smile. “He passed away a couple of years ago. You and Zach…seem…” Close? Not exactly. Zach looked more uncomfortable in the garage than I’d felt the first time I went to Stroller Squad.
“Zach’s a good man.” John tipped his beer toward me. “I don’t always understand him, but I’m bloody proud all the same.” A suspicious look crossed his face. “You like books?”
“Uh.” I grimaced. “Do magazines count?”
John laughed and clinked his bottle against mine. “To me, yeah.” Silence hung between us as we sipped our drinks. It wasn’t awkward—well, not until he cleared his throat and smashed me with, “You’re the bloke my daughter’s got some doubts about.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. John pulled no punches. “Uh, yeah… That’s probably me.”
“Cheated on your wife, did you?”