Staking His Claim

by Karen Templeton

  "Now, see, that's where your theory falls short. Because I don't."

  Cal waited a couple of seconds, then said, "I take it you're talking about tonight?"

  "Yep."

  His stomach torqued into about five hundred knots. "You wish it never happened?"

  Now it was her turn to pause. "I wish…" Her sigh was sharp. "I wish I was more like you."

  "Well, I sure as hell don't," he said, then added before she could respond, "Just so you know…I have never had sex like that before."

  "Cal…"

  "Don't worry, I'm not going back on my promise. But I sure as hell am not gonna pretend that it was just average, okay? At least, it wasn't for me." He waited, holding his breath.

  "Me, neither," she said after far too long a pause, and he let the breath out. "But that doesn't mean—"

  "—anything other than we're good in the sack together, I know." He slowed down for what looked like a slippery spot, easing the truck over it before saying, "Okay, this is probably gonna tick you off, but what the hell. I don't know what's got you so scared of falling in love, or being loved, or whatever it is that's holding you back. Then again, maybe it's me, that I'm fine for a toss in the hay when you're feeling down or insecure or whatever, but that's it. But dammit, Dawn, you've got more love to give than any woman I've ever known, only it's like you're afraid to…to use it or something, the way my mother used to horde the fancy perfume Daddy'd given her, only wearing it for special occasions. Like she was afraid if she used it up, she'd never have any more." Suddenly unsure of where this line of thought was headed, he flexed his hands on the steering wheel. "Anyway. It just doesn't seem right, is what I'm saying, keeping it bottled up like that. And that's all I've got to say."

  They drove for probably another mile or so before she said, looking straight ahead, "And all I have to say is, if I ever hear you say again that I think you're only good for a toss in the hay, I will make your life so miserable you'll wish you'd never been born."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  Figuring it was too dark for her to see anyway, he didn't even bother to hold back the grin.

  * * *

  Cal heard Dawn's sharp intake of breath at the sight of the boy, all banged up and bandaged and bruised. Didn't do much for Cal's insides, either, seeing the kid looking so helpless. And puny. His eyes still sparked with defiance, however, even though he couldn't help but wince when he tried to talk.

  "What're you two doin' here? And where's Daddy?"

  "I'm sure your father will be here any minute," Dawn said gently. "And Dr. Ryan told us what happened. We were worried about you."

  "Well, you don't have to worry no more, since you c'n see I'm fine."

  "You're not fine, Eli," Cal said, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed. "But you are damn lucky. What on earth possessed you to do a fool thing like that?"

  "It's not like I don't know how to drive! Daddy lets me drive the truck all the time!"

  "But not on the open road in the middle of a freakin' ice storm! Besides which, you're twelve, for the love of Mike—"

  "Cal, please," Dawn said, laying her hand on his arm.

  Eli shouted, "Go away! It's none of your business! Go away!"

  "Eli—"

  "Come on, Cal," Dawn said in a voice that reminded him a lot of his mother's when he knew he'd pushed a quarter inch too far. Then she said to Eli, "We'll come see you tomorrow, when you're feeling more like company."

  "What if I don't want you to?"

  "Tough," she said, then tugged Cal out of the room. "Honestly," she said when they got back out in the hall, "the two of you were like a pair of cats scrapping over their territory."

  "I was not—"

  "Yes, you were," she said, sagging against the wall. "And thank God for it. It's about time the poor kid has somebody in his life who cares enough about him to scrap with him, instead of just…whatever it is that Jacob's done to him to make him that way."

  "If he needs somebody to care about him so much, how come he told us to go away?"

  "Because he was testing us," she said. "See, our leaving showed we cared enough to listen, to give him some control over his life, a life that's obviously totally out of control. But telling him we were coming back, no matter what, reassured him that he couldn't scare us off. I mean, for God's sake, where is his father? And where the hell was he tonight when his son almost got killed?"

  "Beats me. Ryan said he'd called him right before he called us."

  "Things can't go on this way, Cal. Something's got to be done before Eli does something even more stupid."

  Cal propped himself against the wall beside her, slipping an arm behind her neck and clamping his hand onto her shoulder so she couldn't wriggle free. "You know, another man might feel threatened by a woman like you."

  "What do you mean, 'a woman like me'? And think very carefully before you answer."

  He chuckled. "A woman as smart as you. Giving as you. Gutsy as you."

  "Oh," she said, softening. A little. "But not you?"

  Leaning closer, he whispered, "Why else do you think I get so turned on when I'm around you?"

  She seemed to think about that for a moment, only to announce she had to visit the little girls' room, right as Ryan came around the corner. By mutual, if unspoken, consent, the brothers gravitated toward the coffee machine in the waiting room across the hall.

  "So…you picked her up on your way, huh?" Ryan said, retrieving his coffee. Not looking at him.

  "Once she heard," Cal said, sidestepping both the question and the issue, "nothing would've kept her from being here."

  Coffee in hand, Ryan gave him one of those looks that said he knew exactly what was going on. But all he said was, "I don't imagine so," then sank into one of the waiting room chairs. "Some way to spend Christmas Eve, huh?"

  Cal frowned, plopping his butt into the chair next to Ryan's. "Isn't that tomorrow? Or did I miss a day somewhere?"

  "Technically it started about ten minutes ago." His brother took a sip of his coffee and said, "I'm supposed to be putting together a doll house right now."

  A brief image of Cal maybe doing the same thing in a couple of years made his skin tingle. Then he said, "Any reason you have to stick around?"

  Ryan slouched further in the chair, crossing his stretched-out legs at the ankles. "Two, actually. Jacob Burke being the first, since there's no way I'm leaving until I hear his side of the story." He took another slug of the coffee and looked at Cal. "You being the other."

  "Lord almighty," Cal said, glaring at his coffee, "what'd they brew this with? Bilge water?"

  "Cal—"

  "Save your breath, Ry." He got up, tossing the sludge into a nearby garbage can and refusing to look at his brother. "This is between Dawn and me—"

  "Where is he? Where's my boy? Is he okay?"

  They both looked up to see Jacob lurching toward them as fast as he could manage with the cane. Wearing a worn Navy pea coat over stained jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt, his shaggy hair looked like it hadn't been anywhere near a comb in days, anymore than his face had a razor. But those ice-blue eyes blazed bright with fear and shock. And annoyance, Cal thought with a jab of his own.

  "He's right in there," Ryan said. "And yes, he'll be fine. They're gonna keep him overnight to make sure nothing goes haywire, but that's just a precaution." He frowned. "Kid's been asking for you for the past hour."

  "Blasted truck wouldn't start," Jacob said, his hand darting in and out of the pea coat's pockets like he was looking for something. "Had to call out Darryl Andrews to jumpstart it, he charged me nearly thirty bucks, can you believe it?"

  "How'd this happen, Jacob?" Cal asked.

  Jacob glared at them for a moment, then seemed to shrink into himself. "Damn painkillers, something new they gave me, must've knocked me out…." His gaze flickered to Cal. "Thatgas tank was dry as a bone, far as I knew, I swear it. Kid must've put siphoned gas off the other truck or something. H
ad the keys to the good truck in my pocket when I fell asleep, the other ones were hanging on the peg in the kitchen where they always were…"

  His customary bravado disintegrating by the second, the man looked up at Ryan, leaning heavily on his cane. "Can I see him now?"

  Ryan nodded; Dawn reappeared just as Jacob slipped through the door.

  "I heard," she said, but whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself. For a change. Then her brows lifted. "What?" she said, looking at Ryan. Over Dawn's head, Cal shot his brother a don't-go-there look.

  "Nothing," Ryan said. "Just wondering how you were holding up. You look…worn-out."

  "I'm fine," she said, and Ryan got that damned look on his face again. Fortunately for everybody, since he'd talked to Jacob, he decided to go on home. But not before extracting a promise from Dawn that she'd do the same in the very near future. Naturally, as soon as Ryan left, Dawn planted herself in one of the waiting room chairs, obviously settling in for the duration.

  "I want to talk to Jacob, too," she said before Cal could even think Why?

  On a weary sigh, Cal sank into the chair beside her. "You do realize he's liable to tell you this is none of your business?"

  "I ran into the sheriff on my way back from the ladies' room. This is really serious, Cal. Especially as Eli's been shoplifting again. From people not inclined to overlook it this time." Her mouth thinned. "Roy said he was sorry, but he's got to report this to Family Services. And he's right," she added on a rush of air. "Not only was Eli endangering his own life tonight, but what if he'd run into somebody else? If the social worker thinks Jacob really can't handle him, a judge could very well rule that he'd be better off living with somebody else."

  Cal leaned forward, thinking evil thoughts about the coffee machine. "Would that be so bad?" he asked after a moment, then twisted around to find her giving him a look like he'd grown fangs. "At least he'd be supervised."

  She pushed a stray hair behind her ear, then crossed her arms. "I've done a lot of work with juvies. And sure, some of them are so hardened nothing short of a brain transplant would change their attitude. But for the ones who are still reachable, ones like Eli who maybe haven't completely gone over to the other side, I'm not sure taking him away from the only security he has, no matter how shaky it is, is the best way to go. It's not Eli who needs to be fixed, it's his relationship with his father—"

  "What're you doing here?"

  They looked up to see Jacob looming over them, vibrating with anger.

  "I'm here because I care about your son," Dawn said, her voice a lot steadier than her move to get to her feet. "And because I might be able to help."

  "I don't need your help—"

  "Jacob, for God's sake! The sheriff has to report this to the county! What do you think's going to happen then?"

  "'S'got nothing to do with anybody but me and the boy! Kids get into trouble, everybody knows that! And it's like I told your boyfriend here, he took off after I'd fallen asleep! Who the hell knew he'd do a fool thing like that with the weather the way it was? So what do you expect me to do, lock the kid up?"

  "He could have been killed," Dawn said, her voice ominously soft. "Or he could've killed somebody else. You can't ignore this, Jacob."

  Cal jerked at the sudden, blazing intensity in the man's eyes when he focused on Dawn. "And maybe you should wait until the one in your belly's out in the world before you go judgin' other people's parentin' skills!"

  "And maybe it's because of this one I can't just stand by and watch a child's life go down the tubes because his father's too damn stubborn to do something about it!"

  Atta girl, Cal thought as he stood there, transfixed. Amazed. Proud.

  Hot.

  Jacob, on the other hand, looked—justifiably enough—like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him. After a moment he limped over to a chair, falling heavily into it.

  "Do something about it?" he said on a dry laugh. "Like what?"

  "That's where I come in," Dawn said. "If you'd let me."

  On a sigh, he leaned back, shaking his head. "I'd never figured on havin' kids, y'know? Or even settling down. Me and Justine, both, we liked movin' from place to place, meetin' new people. Didn't need any kids to mess that up. Except then…"

  He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "To this day I remember the look on her face when she told me she was pregnant, her eyes all big like she was petrified I'd ask her to get rid of it. Totally blindsided me, her wanting the kid. Think it did her, too. But once I saw how she really felt…well. Guess sometimes, you just gotta roll with the punches. Even though I knew it meant we couldn't go gallivantin' all over creation like we'd been doing."

  "How'd you end up back here?" Dawn asked.

  "My mama died, left me the house. My first thought was to maybe sell it, you know, use the money to buy a place somewhere else, since I had no love for Haven. Or the house, frankly. But Justine, she took to the town right off, in a way I ain't never seen her do with any other place we'd lived.

  "So we stayed, and she had the baby, and for a while things were okay. She was crazy about the kid, and real good with him, too. And she was young. Who would've figured on her dyin' before Eli was even out of diapers?"

  The man looked up at Cal, helplessness burning in his eyes. "I remember seeing your daddy with your older brothers, when they'd come into town, the way he'd talk and laugh with 'em, how they all got on. I never had that with my own father, never knew firsthand what a father was supposed to do with a son. But after Justine died and it was just me and Eli, I guess I thought it'd get better, somehow. That eventually I'd catch on, figure out what I was doing. Besides, it wasn't so bad when I was working, I left him at the Methodist church's day care, and they'd have him fed and what-all by the time I picked him up. Then I hurt my back on the job, wasn't pulling enough on disability to put him in day care no more, couldn't really take care of him right myself…" He shrugged, then offered an almost apologetic smile. "I do love the boy. You gotta believe that. But having a kid, or even lovin' him, don't automatically make you a good parent."

  Dawn sat beside him, laying a hand on his arm. "But if you couldn't take proper care of him," she asked gently, "why didn't you place him up for adoption? Or at least put him out to foster care?"

  Again Jacob looked like he was trying to see inside Dawn's brain. And way deep inside Cal's, a faint alarm went off. "Because he was all I had left," he said.

  "Then…you really don't want to lose him now, do you?"

  Jacob shook his head.

  Dawn glanced up at Cal, then back at Eli's father. "Jacob, listen to me. I'm not judging you, even if that's what it sounds like. But I'm afraid for Eli. And I can tell you if you don't take some preemptive measures to make things better before this comes before a judge—which I'm sure it will—the county may decide to remove Eli from your care whether you want it or not. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  A beat or two passed before he pushed out, "Yeah. You're sayin' I'm supposed to let some strangers tell me how to raise my kid."

  "Some counseling, is all I'm suggesting. Maybe a parenting skills class—"

  "Forget it."

  "Jacob," Cal said, figuring he may as well throw in his two cents. "Listen to the woman. I know she's pushy and all—" Dawn glared at him "—but she knows what she's talking about. There's no shame in asking for help. In fact," he said with one of those why-don't-we-just-humor-the-lady shrugs, "it seems to me you agreeing to go to those classes might offer Eli some reassurances. You know, show him how you really feel about him and all."

  Jacob grunted.

  "Not only that," Cal said, figuring he might as well keep going, "maybe we could, I don't know, find something to keep Eli from gettin' bored, to give him a sense of purpose. Keep him out of trouble, y'know? Kids need their fathers," he said with another, and yes, pointed, glance at the glowering pregnant woman at Jacob's side, "so we need to do whatever's necessary to keep you and Eli together. Right?"
<
br />   Jacob shot a wary glance at Dawn, who nodded her agreement, then focused again on Cal.

  "I take it you got something in mind?"

  "As it happens," Cal said, "I do."

  * * *

  "I've been thinking," Dawn said, her eyes closed over there on the other side of the truck.

  Cal chuckled. Woman hadn't said word one since they'd left Claremore more than a half hour before. "Looked more to me like you were sleeping."

  "Goes to show how much you know," she said, but she didn't open her eyes. "Anyway, I was thinking about Jacob and what he said about how having a kid doesn't automatically make you a good parent."

  He gripped the steering wheel harder, his heart thudding against his ribs. The clouds had returned while they'd been at the hospital; about halfway back to Haven it had started to snow, big feathery flakes darting in and out of the truck's headlight beams like moths.

  "Please tell me you're not starting up again about what kind of mother you're gonna make."

  "This isn't about me, doofus," she said, finally opening her eyes. "Not like that, anyway. I mean—" he sensed her twisting to look at him "—do you think Eli's any better off because his father did keep him?"

  Cal glanced over, then back out at the road. The snow was getting heavier. "What are you getting at?"

  "I'm not sure. Except…if my father was anything like Jacob, maybe it was just as well he wasn't part of my life."

  Over the tug to his heart, Cal said, "Even though you think he's fixable?"

  "I think if he really wants it, it's possible. But only because we're going to bat for him. An awful lot of struggling parents don't have anybody in their camp, you know. And he certainly didn't before this."

  "He wouldn't let anybody in, remember?"

  "Good point." Then, a moment or two later: "Thanks, by the way."

  "For what?"

  "For jumping into the mouth of the volcano right along with me. Andrew…never understood why I bothered with 'those people,' as he put it. Why I wasted my energy and talent—his words—on them."

  "I'm not Andrew," Cal said quietly.

  A good thirty seconds passed before she said, "I know." Then she added, "Suggesting Eli come work on the farm was a stroke of brilliance."