Mr. Nice Guy by Belinda Williams

Chapter Thirteen

Chelsea foundherself checking her new watch all morning. When Barb spotted it, she’d screwed up her nose and said, ‘I don’t understand when watches stopped being watches.’

‘Ooh, nice,’ Kendra commented when she caught Chelsea looking at it. ‘No idea how you haven’t had one until now.’

All the other girls at Kinder Kids had them. Barb was such a techno-phobe that she still hadn’t figured out you could receive messages on them, and no one was enlightening her either. She just thought that it measured steps and workouts.

Chelsea was starting to worry that hers wasn’t working properly, though. She hadn’t had any messages from Tom all morning, and now it was almost lunchtime. Just to make sure, she’d dashed into the break room when no one was looking to check that there were definitely no messages on her phone.

Nothing.

Chelsea told herself to stop being stupid. Tom was a paramedic, and he was on a shift. He was most likely busy. He’d get in contact to make plans when he had a chance. Of course, it didn’t stop Chelsea wondering what he had in mind for tonight. They’d done dinner, a movie, as well as takeout, so she wasn’t sure what was left.

It had better not be more gifts. Except, of course, she loved her new watch, although she was careful not to gush about it. She hadn’t told her co-workers it had been a present. There was no point in making it into anything bigger than it was.

By three o’clock story time, Chelsea retreated into the break room gratefully, but there was still no message from Tom. She was checking her emails when her phone buzzed, and she jumped.

She ignored her rapid heartbeat and opened the message from Tom. It wasn’t like she’d been waiting to hear from him all day or anything. She’d just been immersed in her emails and the alert had surprised her.

Chels, I’m so sorry. I won’t be home until late tonight. Long shift. One of my co-workers needs support. Dinner will be there for you when you get home.

Chelsea re-read the message. She knew Tom well enough by now to interpret “long shift” as a really intense, serious call-out, and “co-worker needs support” to mean they’d experienced something horrible.

Chelsea released a shaky sigh. She hoped his co-worker would be OK and that the patients were alive and recovering.

Chelsea typed a reply.

Of course. Totally understand. And don’t worry about dinner. I’m good.

A message came back almost immediately.

Dinner will be there for you when you get home.

Chelsea’s heart—which was almost back to normal—skipped a beat. For some reason, she liked it when Tom insisted on things. It had been the same with the watch. Not pushy. Just . . . firm. But nice, of course. Always so nice.

Chelsea grinned, then typed a reply.

Thank you. Should I wait up?

She hit send and then gasped.

Oh my God, that was something a girlfriend would say! Talk about being laced with innuendo.

Chelsea rushed to shoot off another message.

I didn’t mean it that way! I meant in case you wanted to talk.

Tom’s reply didn’t take long.

Lol. Way to get a guy’s hopes up. I know what you meant. No need to wait up.

Chelsea stared at his reply. He was just joking around and being fun like he normally was. That was Tom in a nutshell—good spirited and a great sense of humour. The bit about getting his hopes up was just a joke. Wasn’t it?

‘Chelsea? Can you join me in my office, please?’

Chelsea quickly switched her phone screen off and looked up at Barb, who was standing in the doorway with a sober look on her face. More sober than usual, that was.

Shit. What was this about? Had Barb finally figured out that Apple watches could receive messages and decided that it was a conspiracy against her running an efficient business?

‘Sure. Everything OK?’ Chelsea tried to sound casual and relaxed.

Barb’s thin lips spread themselves into a tight line. ‘Dylan’s mother is here and she wants to speak to both of us about something.’

Chelsea’s thoughts about Barb’s paranoia regarding technology vanished and she followed Barb to her office. It must be serious if Dylan’s mum, Tori, was here to talk to them. Tori wasn’t generally the sort to stop and chat like some of the other parents—she was too busy running between her corporate job in the city and her children.

Maybe it was about the biting incident. Chelsea had already reassured Matt it wasn’t unusual behaviour. Perhaps Tori wanted to discuss it in person, too, and Chelsea was happy to reassure her that it wasn’t uncommon behaviour in some toddlers.

As soon as Chelsea saw Tori standing ashen-faced in the centre of Barb’s office, she knew it was much more serious than that.

‘Tori, hi,’ Chelsea said softly, stunned by Dylan’s mother’s appearance.

Tori met Chelsea’s eyes. They were puffy and red as though she’d been crying, and she was twisting a tissue between her hands. It was out-of-character behaviour for her, and she was usually extremely self-possessed. Chelsea had only ever seen her in corporate attire on her way to or from work. Now she wore an old T-shirt that was faded and stretched and a comfortable pair of jeans.

Tori’s mouth twisted into an anguished frown and she looked between Barb and Chelsea helplessly. ‘Last night, Matt . . . Dylan’s dad, tried to take his own life.’

Chelsea stared at her, too shocked to speak.

Barb stepped forward. ‘We are very relieved to hear that he didn’t succeed.’

Tori nodded, and a few tears escaped to trail down her cheeks. ‘He’s safe now and currently receiving care in hospital. So that means Dylan will be living with me permanently for the time being.’

Barb reached over and briefly rubbed a hand on Tori’s arm. The physical contact was unusual for her. Obviously Barb was as similarly shocked by the news as Chelsea was. ‘I think that’s for the best,’ she agreed.

Tori nodded and looked at her feet. ‘We haven’t told Dylan. I’m still not sure what to say. We’ll probably just tell him that Daddy had to go away for work for a little while . . .’ Her face crumbled and she put a hand to her mouth to cover a sob.

Barb reached over and patted Tori’s shoulder sympathetically. ‘We’ll keep the routine here for Dylan as normal as possible, and if he asks about his dad, we’ll only tell him what you’ve advised us to.’

Tori nodded, still not looking at them. ‘I feel so helpless. And guilty. There’s so much guilt. I keep thinking that maybe if our marriage hadn’t ended . . .’

‘Hush,’ Barb soothed, rubbing her arm again. ‘That line of thinking isn’t going to help anyone. Just concentrate on what’s important—your family.’

Tori nodded. ‘I really appreciate the support.’

‘Can we get in touch with him?’ Chelsea blurted and ignored Barb’s pointed look. ‘So we can send a card saying we’re thinking about him,’ she added.

Tori definitely needed their support, but so did Matt right now.

Tori rubbed a hand across her forehead like her head hurt, which it probably did. ‘That’s really thoughtful. I think he’d like that. I’ll email you the details.’

From there, Barb steered the conversation to more practical matters like arrangements for the pick-ups and drop-offs when Tori was working on the days Matt had usually picked Dylan up. By the end of the meeting, Tori seemed a little more like her normal self, or at least less shaken.

Barb and Chelsea followed Tori outside and stood and watched as Dylan left with his mother.

When they were gone, Barb let out a rush of breath. ‘In all my years of running this centre, I thought I’d seen everything. Sadly not.’

Chelsea had the unusual urge to pat Barb on the shoulder, but resisted. You never touched the Dragon Lady, although today she seemed less like a dragon and more like a tired older woman.

‘Poor Matt. He was so sad about having so little access to the kids,’ Chelsea said softly.

‘I know. And the tragic thing is that now he’s made an attempt on his life, it’s only going to hurt his ability to have access to them.’

‘Can they do that?’ Chelsea asked, alarmed.

For once, Barb’s blue eyes were soft, not stern. ‘Think about it. You’ve heard the stories in the media about parents killing themselves and their children.’

Chelsea’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Matt would never . . .’ She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

‘I don’t think so either. But you never know, do you? You never know.’

Barb turned to head back inside towards the sound of children playing and laughing. It was so at odds with the dark feeling of helplessness lodged firmly in the pit of Chelsea’s belly. It was only when she was gone that Chelsea realised Barb hadn’t ordered Chelsea back to work like she usually would. Her boss was giving her space.

Chelsea took in the empty play equipment that stood ready for tomorrow. The sandpit that was covered over. The soft fake turf to cushion against tumbles and falls. These children were so young. How was a kid like Dylan ever going to begin to comprehend what had happened to his daddy? And that was if they ever told him the truth.

One thing Chelsea had learned over the last decade working with children was they were more resilient and a hell of a lot smarter than you gave them credit for. Previous students had lost grandparents or older aunts and uncles and come out with the most surprising things afterwards. One comment from a little girl still stood out:

Mummy is sad about Grandma not being here anymore. But I know she’ll never leave us. She’s in all our good memories and no one can ever take those away.

Chelsea wiped away a single tear, hurting for Matt, Tori and Dylan, and the rest of their family. She turned and made her way towards the happy sounds of the children, finding that she needed to be around them.

Chelsea always liked to talk—or at the very least have the company of others when she felt sad about something. Later on, she would call Nadia on the way home. Chelsea knew her friend would be there to listen.

The strange thing was, Nadia wasn’t the first person who had come to mind.

Tom was.