Chapter Four: Afterwords

MacGyver rapped lightly on the shed door before turning the handle and pulling it open. "Anybody home?" he asked, peering around the edge of the door.

The shed was absolutely silent and still, making MacGyver wonder if Dylan had run on past it instead of hiding inside as he had assumed. But he stepped inside anyway; there were certainly enough odds and ends lying around to hide a small boy. * "Dylan? If you're in here, c'mon out."

There was a small scuffle toward the back, then a clatter as a paint can fell over.

"Dylan? That you back there?"

The boy sighed in defeat and squirmed slowly from his hiding place. "Are you mad at me, Mr Mac?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yeah, I kind of am," MacGyver admitted, turning the paint can all the way over and sitting on it. "You let me think you were really in trouble when I climbed up that tree after you. Was it your idea, or did Cindy and Derrick put ya up to it?"

Dylan shrugged, not meeting MacGyver's eyes.

"I could have fallen, ya know," MacGyver pointed out. "Branches up that high might hold a little scamp like you, but they're pretty thin for a grown man."

"Sorry," Dylan muttered.

"Are ya really?"

The little boy nodded, meeting MacGyver's eyes for the first time. "I didn't want you to fall, Mr Mac…we just thought it would be funny to see you climbing up the tree."

"We, huh?"

Dylan bit his lip, realizing his mistake in giving away his siblings' part in it. "Are…you gonna spank me, Mr Mac?"

"Nope; that's something for your father to take care of."

"Are…you gonna tell him?"

"Nope," MacGyver said again. "If I can't handle you kids on my own without tattling to your father, I guess I don't deserve much respect. But you can't be making me climb after you when you're not really stuck, all right?"

"Okay," Dylan agreed.

"Then we've got a deal," MacGyver said, standing and offering his hand. Dylan smiled, half hesitantly placing his hand in MacGyver's. MacGyver shook it with overemphasized firmness, then put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "C'mon. The others are waiting lunch for us, an' I'm hungry."

"Me, too," Dylan agreed, skipping at his side up to the house.

oOo

"He found Dylan!" Cassie called from her post by the window.

Her older brother and sister quickly joined her.

"He doesn't look mad," Cindy observed.

"Naw, an' Dylan's smiling," Derrick added.

"I like Mr Mac," Cassie declared.

"He's more fun than most of our babysitters," Cindy admitted, thinking of the high school girls who left them to their own devices.

"An' lunch looks halfway decent," Derrick admitted. "Better than what Ma makes sometimes."

Further conversation was cut short as the kitchen door opened and MacGyver gave Dylan a friendly push inside. "Go wash up, and clean that dust off your face, too. The rest of ya, how about finding some plates and setting the table while I finish up in the kitchen?"

"Ma never makes us set the table!" Cindy protested.

MacGyver shrugged. "Suit yourself, but no one gets lunch unless I have somethin' to put it on."

Derrick and Cindy looked at each other, then slowly began getting plates and cups out of the cabinet while Cassie ran to the silverware drawer. Maybe, Cindy mused, it was still too soon to form a favorable opinion of this babysitter.

oOo

"Come help me wash the dishes," MacGyver requested after lunch.

Cindy frowned, again thinking that maybe she didn't like him as much as she had thought she might. "We never wash the dishes," she informed him.

"Then this is a good time to start; I could use some help."

"I'll help you, Mr Mac!" Cassie offered.

Derrick and Cindy looked at each other. "Yeah, Cassie can help you," Derrick agreed. "Come on, Dylan."

Leaving Cassie behind, the three older children quickly escaped out to the wide porch. MacGyver quietly shook his head, but let them go.

"So, was he mad?" Cindy asked as Derrick glanced back toward the kitchen window to be sure they couldn't be overheard.

"Not mad, exactly…" Dylan hedged. "He didn't yell or anythin', an' he said he wouldn't spank me 'cause that's Dad's job."

"So he's gonna tell?" Cindy asked scornfully.

"Nuh-uh; he said he didn't deserve any respect if he went tattlin' to Dad."

"Got that right," Derrick agreed; like most children, they thought a tattletale was the basest kind of traitor.

"Sounds like we can do anything we want with him," Cindy concluded; "he can't stop us."

"He made us set the table."

"We decided to set the table," Cindy said firmly.

Dylan frowned. "But I promised him I wouldn't make him climb after me again."

"You what?" Cindy demanded. "How'd he get to ya?"

Dylan shrugged. "I dunno," he muttered, unable to put into words how Mr Mac had made him truly feel sorry for what he had done.

"Well you had your fingers crossed, didn't you?" Cindy demanded.

"Nuh-uh; I forgot."

Cindy sighed impatiently, but remembering how Mr Mac had met his eyes as he shook hands with him like a man, Dylan was secretly glad he hadn't invalidated his promise.

"Doesn't matter, Cindy," Derrick dismissed. "We couldn't use that one again anyway, now that he knows what a little monkey Dyl' is."

Dylan grinned, dodging away as Derrick shoved him affectionately.

"That's true," Cindy admitted. "You still with us for any other tricks, Dylan?"

"Yeah…sure," Dylan agreed after only a second's hesitation. "I'm in."

"What about Cassie?" Cindy asked. "Think she's gonna go soft on us?" She glanced toward the kitchen where Cassie was happily helping Mr Mac wash dishes.

"Nah," Derrick dismissed. "She just likes the attention; she'll do whatever we tell her. An' if she doesn't, we can get along just as well without her."

"I guess you're right," Cindy admitted. She giggled in anticipation, her eyes sparkling with glee as she thought of all the tricks they could play in five days. Poor Mr Mac wouldn't know what hit him!

Next chapter coming next week!

* Illustration for this scene can be found at www . deviantart . com [slash] femalechauvinist [slash] art [slash] Peekaboo-877804256

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