Substitute Sitter

Substitute Sitter

~~ Minneapolis, Minnesota, 2094 ~~

"Hey, Jordan! Can you go take a look at the robot on twenty-five? It's not dropping the full shot and we're losing one every so often to the grinder," Tasha, the production supervisor on first shift at Moorwind Indudstries' Minneapolis factory called over the radio.

"Yep. I've got it," Jordan replied, glancing at his watch and then grabbing his tools to head toward the section of the injection molding floor that had that press. A three-hundred-ten ton Sumitomo Demag, all-electric, it was not the largest press they had by far. But it was in a tonnage class that saw a lot of use, and having it run at less than full capacity was not good for profits. He had a little time before his shift ended. Normally, he wouldn't mind sticking around a little until he was sure he'd solved the problem, but today, he had to hurry. He had a prior engagement, a rare occurrence for him.

He grabbed Trace, the area's process tech, and had him man the machine's control panel as they watched several shots. Then it held on to another part and Trace stopped the machine. Undoing the safety guards over the crane, he started feeling around the end-of-arm tooling for anything out of place. It took him a few moments, but he found it soon enough - one of the tiny hoses feeding air to the pneumatic grippers had been punctured or slashed. Hooked on something rough. It wasn't tied to the end-of-arm tooling like the rest of the hoses. Probably a repair job, and one that had been done sloppily.

He pulled out a small reel of hose, measured out about how much he needed, and then cut it off. Quickly he replaced the damaged hose and then zip-tied it to the bundle of other hoses feeding the robotic arm with air to power the grippers and trimmers. "All right, Trace! Run it!" he called over the press. Trace set it back to its home position and started up the press once more as Jordan got his tools out of the way and closed up the safety fencing again.

He watched as the robot picked all eight cavities off the mold, dropped them off on the conveyor, then dropped the runner and sprue into the grinder to be pelletized and then fed back into the machine for reuse. After five more shots, he walked back around. "Looks good to me. If it acts up again, have Tasha make Colson take a look at it. He should be here in about a half-hour for his shift."

"Where you running off to so early, Jordan?" Trace grinned. "Got a hot date or something?"

Jordan blushed and ducked his head a little. "Er... yeah. Is it that obvious?"

Trace blinked. "Fuck no, man! I was just guessing," he spat. "Serious? You've got a date? That's awesome. Do I know her?"

"I doubt it. She's one of the office secretaries at my kids' school," he replied. "She's been at me to go out with her almost all year now. I finally agreed."

"Well good on you, man. Don't worry. I'll hold down the fort," he grinned.

Jordan flashed him a thumbs-up and walked back to the engineering offices. He slid his tools into their customary place underneath his desk and then sent off a quick email to the team to tell them about the end-of-arm tooling malfunction. Then, he shut down the computer, picked up his coat, and walked out to his car.

Sniffing at the cool October air, he sighed. It was going to start snowing soon, and he hadn't even had a chance to maintenance his snowblower yet. Summer had gotten away from him and fall was almost over too. He needed to do it quickly before the snow started flying, he thought to himself, a foregone conclusion in the Northern state.

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward his kids' school. He was early enough that he'd be able to pick them up today, and so, in an unusual act for him, he pulled into the line of cars that looked almost like a feeding line for parents at a building that dispensed kids like pelletized food. Drive up, open door, take in children-pellets, drive off. Repeat the next day. Suddenly, he was overcome with gratitude for school buses and their drivers that saved him from the parent feeding line. Staring at the line of cars, he honestly didn't think he could do this every day. Being a single parent to triplets in the evenings was difficult enough.

Hope pulled slowly into the driveway, carefully parking the car. She rested her head on the steering wheel with a groan, "Stupid female body," she muttered. Her uterus cramped in revenge at her complaint, and she groaned. She practically crawled out of the car, only barely able to take her backpack with her, and into the house. She took four ibuprofen, then curled herself around a hot water bottle. It was an hour later that her Mom came in and checked on her, "Mom... it's... ugh..."

"Oh sweetheart," Faith murmured and came over, kissing her forehead. "Did you take your medicine?"

"No, I'm babysitting, it makes me nauseous and sleepy," Hope whispered, curling tighter to the heated bottle with a whine.

"This is for the triplets?" Faith asked as she pulled out her phone to check the calendar. Hope tiredly nodded. "How about I go? I've got some time, you stay home and rest, take your medicine, and eat the extra chocolate brownies I made."

"But..."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle three kids," Faith smirked, "After all I handled you just fine." She leaned over Hope and kissed her forehead, "Sleep, darling one. I've got this."

"Mmm'k I'll text Mister Berryman so he knows to expect you," Hope said, tugging her phone closer and sending off the text.

"Sleep," Faith moved around the room, dimming the lights, then setting up the brownies, a thermos of chicken noodle soup, and replacement hot water bottles within reach of Hope.

"Luv you, Mommy," Hope whimpered, taking the two pills that would ease her pain.

"Love you, my heart." Faith smiled from the doorway, then pulled out her calendar. It included the address and time Hope was expected to arrive and leave Mister Berryman's house. She followed up with a text, then went to change into comfortable clothes.

Iris was watching YouTube videos on Jordan's phone when Hope's texts arrived. She read them, then hid the texts, not wanting her Daddy to stay home. She was looking forward to having a new friend, plus Hope said her Mom was super nice. "You should wear the purple tie, Daddy," Iris announced, "With the blue stripes."

Jordan stood in the closet and looked at the mirror he'd hung at the end of it. Holding up a baby-blue, button-down dress shirt and the tie that Iris had recommended, he looked at himself. "This is going to be a disaster...," he murmured to himself. Nicole had been the one of them with any fashion sense, and once again, he found himself aching, the way an amputee often did when they felt pain in a limb that was no longer there. Her abandonment still hurt in those moments when he worried he'd never be enough. It would be easier if they'd fought more, or if they hadn't had so many good times. He was still struggling to stay present and trying to put together an ensemble that didn't make him look like Picasso had decided to use him as a canvas when he heard the doorbell ring.

He sighed, tossing the shirt and tie over one shoulder, and walked to the door. As he opened it, he said in something of an exasperated tone, "I'll be out of your way here soon, Hope. I've just got to figure out what goes with grey pants...," he trailed off as the door opened past his face to reveal what was decidedly not a high school student and certainly not his usual sitter. "I'm sorry... who are...?" he trailed off, his brow furrowed.

"Faith Wakeman," she offered with a smile. "We met three years ago briefly when my daughter, Hope, started sitting for you. Her symptoms were acting up so I volunteered to sit in her place so you could still enjoy your date and she would rest." She winked, "I recommend a cream shirt and grey slacks with that tie, but if you go baby blue you'll want a cream-colored tie, or no tie at all depending on where you're going."

His mouth fell open. "I... three years... cream-colored... It's... Red River Steakhouse...," he managed, somehow simultaneously sounding like a complete idiot and making perfect sense in his own head.

"Grey slacks, baby blue shirt, no tie, ivory cuffs," she nodded. "May I come in?"

"Faith Wakeman... Oh, God, of course! I'm sorry, I...," he trailed off, shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear it. "Sorry. It's been a long...," he started again.

"Day?" she offered.

"Couple of years?" he finally managed. Looking at her and realizing how that must sound, he blushed a little under his dark beard and mustache, then opened the door and stepped out of the way. "Please... come in. Sorry. I'm not usually this..."

"It is fine," she smiled wryly, "I am going to presume by your shock that you did not get the text messages?"

"Texts?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "No, Iris was watching...," he trailed off as his eyes widened. "IRIS?!" he called. "Come here, please!" he bellowed, making sure he was loud enough for his daughter to hear him. Even with the hearing aid, distance and the walls in the house made it difficult for her from all the way across the house.

"Hi, Daddy," Iris said, coming out and looking up at him cutely. She toed the carpet and swayed from side to side.

"Phone," he said, holding out his hand. It wasn't a request.

She put the phone in his hand with a pout, there were multiple missed texts, two from Hope and three from an unknown number. All five were discussing the sitting arrangements, with the last one informing him that Faith had just pulled into the driveway.

"Really?" he asked, showing her the phone. "And you didn't think I needed to know?"

"You're going on a date with Miss Trachman," she said with a shrug, "You can't leave us alone. If you found out, you would have told Miss Faith not to come and then not go, which wouldn't be fair to Miss Faith or Miss Trachman even though she smells funny and talks too high-pitched."

"But... Miss Faith might have better things to do than put up with our family while I try to figure out how to do this again after eighteen years. It's not exactly riding a bike...," he protested, looking to Faith for some moral support or at least some sign he wasn't crazy.

Faith raised a brow, "Then Miss Faith would have simply made Hope cancel and not volunteered herself to assist." She smirked, "Your logic is filled with fallacy based on assumptions that involve your nervousness about dating again." She smirked, "Now, I am here, I will watch your children, you will go and have a decent to enjoyable time with the high-pitched Miss Trachman and I will have fun and an enjoyable time with your children." She winked, "I believe I am coming out the better end of the deal."

He stared at her with his mouth open for a long moment. Then his watch chirped. He looked at it, then blinked and his face took on a look of horror. "Fuck!" he mouthed before gritting his teeth in irritation with himself. "I was going to do something for dinner for the kids," he breathed. His mind raced. "Um... OK. I think I still have some frozen pizzas in the kitchen freezer...," he moved to go and look. "Or I could leave some money for you to order something...," he trailed off.

"Go dress, have dinner with Miss Trachman, I will take care of your children." She smiled down at Iris and signed, 'Hello, beautiful. Want to introduce me to your rapscallion brothers?'

Iris' face lit up like a tree at Christmas. She quickly signed back, 'You speak sign language?! That's so cool!' She reached out and took Faith's hand and tugged her toward the hallway leading to the den where her brothers were playing video games, having already done their homework.

She allowed Iris to lead her off, a playful wink to Jordan, "Hello, young men. I'm Faith, Hope's Mom. You must be Evan and Anthony."

"She speaks sign!" Iris said excitedly.

"Hi, Faith," Evan said happily, the more gregarious of the two twins said with a beaming smile. "I'm Evan. We'd play a trick on you but Hope would get us later, so we'll be good."

"I'm Anthony. Are you really going to babysit us?"

"Yes, that is the plan, now, what are we doing?" She sprawled on the floor with the two boys and Iris happily climbed on her back to play with her hair. The four of them started playing Mario Cart together.

When Jordan peeked in after dressing in the baby blue shirt without the tie and finding a pair of ivory cufflinks in Nicole's old jewelry box that she'd left, the three children were happily laughing and chattering away at Faith and she had a bright, wide smile. For a moment, he felt like he had seen her somewhere before, it itched at the back of his mind before he dismissed it. "Alright, give your Dad a hug so he can go on his date, then we'll have dinner ourselves."

"Bye, Dad!" The three children swarmed him as Faith rolled to her feet. "Have fun with Miss Trachman."

"Talk about dinosaurs," Anthony instructed.

"Or Barbie's Dream Castle," Iris said excitedly.

"Have an enjoyable evening, Mister Berryman," she smiled at him, her eyes crinkling. "You have my number, I promise I will text you if I need you, and answer any texts you send me."

"I... OK," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. "Thank you," he murmured, looking into her eyes with the gaze of a man about to walk through a minefield.

"I'll have brownies for you when you get home," she waved him off. She turned back to the kids, "So, who wants to help me make dinner? Let's go raid the kitchen!" The four of them walked towards the kitchen, leaving him to go out. Faith was humming an old theme song as she followed.

The dinner at the steakhouse was decent. He worried about his kids, he couldn't help it. He also wasn't sure what to talk with Debra about. The meal finished and Debra sighed, "It's not going to work out, Jordan. I think we're just going to have to be friends. You're very handsome, but... no spark."

He nodded, trying to keep his expression even. "I understand. Thank you for your company this evening, though. It was a nice dinner," he offered as he let her into his car, an older sedan, but still in good condition, and drove her back to her place. He walked her to the door and she went inside before he slid back into his car once more. Staring out the windshield, he sighed. "Thank God, that's over...," he breathed before starting the car and driving back home. The kids would be in bed already, but at least it wasn't too late and Faith should be able to be home at a reasonable hour.

He pulled into his garage and walked into the house, for once, it smelled fantastic. The scent of garlic and tomato filled the air along with the faint, decadent scent of chocolate. He dropped his keys into a small wicker basket by the garage door, pulling out sixty dollars from his wallet, which then went into the basket with the keys. He moved into the house, looking around. Not seeing Faith, he went into the den where she was sitting on a couch, reading something on a tablet that she'd brought. "They behaved, right?" he asked pointedly, worrying that because she wasn't Hope that they might have tried something.

"Perfect little angels," she said with a smile, "I think Anthony has found a new love however, so I left a list of my free times on the counter. He'd like to start cooking with me on the regular."

He blinked. "I... Anthony... Huh?" he managed, not sure where to start processing that.

She tilted her head, looking up at him, "Anthony would like for me to teach him how to cook. I told him I was fine with that if you're OK with it and I left my current season's schedule on the counter for you."

Jordan's mind raced. There were English words in there. He'd heard them. Finally, he managed, "Anthony... wants to learn how to cook?" The question stunned him even as he'd said it. His son had not shown any inclination that he'd wanted to learn. Jordan had not discouraged any of his children in anything they wanted to pursue. He made sure that they always could go and try the things they wanted to try, even though it meant he was running around a lot after work. He figured they couldn't decide what they were interested in doing in life if they didn't get exposed to things, so he allocated what little free time he had to that.

"From me, yes," she smiled up at him, sitting up straight. "I told him that it was fine, we'd just have to set it up around my schedule. I'm fairly flexible as it's coming to the end of the season. Was your date fun? You're home earlier than I anticipated, but the kids have had baths and are already in bed."

"It was...," he trailed off, then hung his head, flopping down on the couch in the opposite corner, pivoted to face her. "... It's over. I didn't really expect any more, but... she was so insistent. I didn't know how else to get her to let it go. She's... nice?" he offered, his face indicating that nice was not the word he was thinking about when he said it.

"I understand," she smirked impishly, "I have had that a few times, we became semi-friends." She sat up and patted his hand gently, "Don't worry, you're going to find your heart again, just have to choose the right woman."

"You say that like it's an easy thing," he smiled wryly. "Like... going to the supermarket." He mimed snootily selecting a piece of produce. "Yes, I'll have that one. No, the one without the bruise..."

She snorted, a soft choked laugh escaping as she covered her mouth, "I typically don't go to the supermarket, I tend to go to farmer's markets. One of my co-workers sounds exactly like that."

"Ugh. Then I feel sorry for you," he empathized. "I'll occasionally go to the farmer's market. They've got a couple of good ones around here. Mostly, I don't have time for the trip. I'm busy with the kids, or work...," he trailed off with a shrug.

"I know that feeling, I'm lucky my daughter is old enough to handle some things on her own," she smiled softly, her eyes turning warm and fond. "Now, as much as I would love to stay and tease you, I will go and get out of your hair. I promised the kids I'd kiss them on the forehead before I left." She rose to her feet and patted his ankle before going into their rooms. He could hear her softly murmur to each one, then she came back out and headed for the door. "Call me or text me if you want to go forward with Anthony and cooking, it'd be nice to have a protege again."

As she left, he was getting to the end of the main hall. The door closed and he stopped. "Kiss them on the...?" he blinked. "Who does that?" The house didn't answer him back and so he was left with only his thoughts and the schedule on the kitchen counter. Sighing, he shut out the lights and went into his own room, the faint scent of garlic trailing after to tease him as he went to sleep.

The weekend passed as it normally did, Anthony stole remote the on Saturday, but the other two didn't fight with him as he flicked quickly to the right channel. The three clustered around the TV and Jordan froze as Faith's voice came from the TV. "Welcome to Fresh Feasts with Faith. I'll be your host as we check out the farmer's market here in Minnetonka and see what we're cooking today."

"I knew I'd seen her somewhere before," he murmured. There were several billboard LED signs that he passed by on his way to work that showed her picture in a kitchen with the tagline, 'Fresh Feasts with Faith every Saturday on the Twin Cities' only FoodTV'. "She's a TV star...," he said finally cocking his head to the side with a stunned smile on his lips.

"Did she talk to you?" Anthony asked quietly, pushing his fingers together. "She said she would talk to you about us cooking together."

"She did. I... I didn't know you were interested in cooking, son. Is this a new thing?"

He waved his hand from side to side an uncanny mimicry of Jordan, "Sorta, I mean we watch her every Sunday and I thought it was just the show... then we cooked dinner together last night and I had a lot of fun and she's really nice, Dad."