Baby, Come Home

by Stephanie Bond

  “She’s a smart lady when it comes to her job,” Kendall agreed.

  “She’s a good mom, too,” Tony blurted, his voice defiant.

  “I’m sure she is,” Kendall said carefully. Something stirred deep within him to hear his son defend his mother. It was just the kind of thing he would’ve taught Tony to do, even though he had problems with some of Amy’s decisions.

  He pulled the truck up to the bunkhouse. “I’ll grab a change of clothes. You can put on the same clothes you wore to school today. Over there’s the shower house. I’ll meet you inside.”

  Tony picked up his backpack and headed toward the long block building that housed the showers. Kendall stopped in the bunkhouse to get what he needed from a foot locker, then stopped outside at the grill area to tell Porter and Marcus they’d be out in a few minutes.

  At the shower house, Tony waited for him, his dirty face stoic. “There’s men in there already.”

  It dawned on Kendall that Tony had never taken a locker-room shower. He thought back to when he was Tony’s age and tried to remember if he’d been modest. He hadn’t, but then, he’d grown up with two brothers. “You can shower in your underwear if you want.”

  Tony thought about it. “Do you?”

  “Nope.” Kendall walked into the locker area, grabbed a towel and opened a locker, depositing his change of clothes inside. Then he began to undress, noticing that Tony was copying his movements. He whistled under his breath throughout, then wrapped a towel around his waist and slipped his feet into shower shoes. He pulled out an extra pair and dropped them at Tony’s feet. “Wear these.”

  Tony pushed his feet into the flip flops, then followed Kendall to the showers. A dozen men were showering, tossing laughter back and forth.

  “Hey, guys,” Kendall said, throwing up his hand.

  “Kendall, who’s the little man?” one of the workers yelled.

  “This is my son, Tony.” He realized it was the first time he’d said those words.

  “Hiya, Tony!” the guys chorused.

  Tony waved self-consciously.

  Kendall casually removed his towel and hung it on a hook, then turned on one of the many shower heads coming out of the wall. Tony did the same, albeit more slowly. Kendall squirted soap out of the dispenser and lathered up, knowing his son was probably studying his body. It was an age-old lesson that he was happy to pass down. He gave Tony his privacy, joked a couple of times with the men to let his son know he didn’t need to be embarrassed.

  Then he turned off the shower and retrieved the towel, dried off and wrapped it around his waist again.

  “That was fast,” Tony said, trying to keep up.

  “We try to conserve water here,” Kendall said. “Sweetness is a green community.”

  “That’s why there are recycling signs everywhere at school?”

  “Right.”

  “Someone said there are big bins of worms by the cafeteria.”

  Kendall smiled. “Those are compost bins…and yes, we use mealworms. I’ll show you sometime.”

  He walked to a sink, pulled out shaving cream and lathered up his beard, then pulled out a razor.

  “You’re going to shave your beard?” Tony asked.

  “I always shave for spring, might as well do it now.” He passed the shaving cream to Tony. “Do you want to try?”

  Tony shrugged. “Okay.” He lathered up, too.

  Kendall passed him a razor. “Do you know how?”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s tricky the first couple of times,” Kendall said, using slow, exaggerated strokes. “Don’t press too hard.”

  “Ow!” Tony said, then grimaced at a thin line of blood that comingled with the shaving cream.

  “I still cut myself, too,” Kendall said. “Keep going.”

  They shaved in companionable silence. Again, Kendall was taken back to the bathroom lesson his dad had given him. How many special moments like that had been lost in his memory forever because he hadn’t been around his own son to trigger them? His anger toward Amy resurged to the surface.

  “You have a lot of muscles,” Tony said absently.

  Kendall smiled. “So will you.”

  “Is that why my mom liked you, because you had muscles?”

  Kendall’s smile faded a bit. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “She won’t talk about you.”

  His hand slipped and he cut himself. “See, I told you I still cut myself,” Kendall said with a rueful laugh. “Let’s wrap this up—Porter and Marcus are waiting.”

  They dressed in the locker room, then Kendall said, “Let me see those hands.”

  Tony worked his mouth, then stuck them out. Bright red blisters and broken skin covered his palms and the undersides of his fingers.

  “Yeah, I’ve been there,” Kendall said, turning over his own calloused hands. He handed Tony a tube of antibiotic ointment. “This will make them feel better and heal faster.”

  Tony opened the tube and squeezed some on his fingers, then handed it back.

  “Keep it,” Kendall said. “You’re going to need it.” He closed the locker door. “Got your dirty clothes?”

  Tony patted his backpack.

  “Towels go over there,” Kendall said, pointing, then he smiled. “And now, dinner. Are you hungry?”

  Tony nodded. “Thirsty, too.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They walked in the darkness, the ground illuminated only by a three-quarter moon. Kendall looked over at Tony, marveling that he and Amy had created this person. He was overwhelmed by the urge to protect him and was scared anew at the thought of Tony hitchhiking on the interstate between Michigan and Georgia. He had a new appreciation for the sleepless nights he and his brothers must have caused his parents.

  “What’s it like having brothers?” Tony asked.

  Another thing that Amy had deprived Tony of, Kendall thought glumly—the chance to have siblings. “Having brothers is the best,” Kendall said. “Just don’t tell them I said that.”

  Tony grinned.

  “There they are,” Porter said, waving from behind one of the many grills set up for the men to use if they were so inclined. Marcus stood next to him, both of them wearing heavy flannel shirts and drinking cans of soda.

  “Tony, the ugly guy on the left is your uncle Porter,” Kendall said. “And the uglier guy on the right is your uncle Marcus—you met him the other day. Guys, this is Anthony Alton Bradshaw. He goes by Tony.”

  “Hey, Tony.”

  “Hello, Tony.”

  “Hi,” he said, then stepped forward to offer his hand to each of them.

  Kendall’s chest swelled, conceding that Amy had taught the boy manners.

  “Sorry, I got ointment on my hands,” Tony mumbled.

  “That’s okay,” Porter said. “We can always use some, too.”

  “Good to see you again, Tony,” Marcus said.

  Over the boy’s head, Kendall met his brothers’ eyes and they gave him imperceptible nods of approval—and envy—that left Kendall shaken…and flushed with pride.

  “I understand you put in a full day at school, then worked all evening,” Porter said. “You must be starved. Steak and baked potato okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tony said, his eyes alight.

  His brothers, especially Porter, had an ease with Tony that Kendall didn’t, probably because the relationship was simpler, with no expectations. Kendall observed as Tony interacted and opened up with his brothers about sports and movies, enjoying the banter.

  At one point he glanced at his watch and realized with dismay it was already ten o’clock.

  Then Tony laughed at something Porter said, and Kendall dropped his arm. He had missed out on too much of his son’s life. No way was he going to be deprived of this evening.

  It was close to eleven-thirty when he drove Tony back to the boardinghouse. Tony was dead on his feet. Kendall walked him to his room that was just a couple of doors down from Amy’s. He shephe
rded him inside with a good-night, then tapped on Amy’s door.

  She answered, dressed in the gown and robe he remembered so well from a few days ago. Her curly red hair was coiled up and held with a clip, her face devoid of makeup and naturally pretty. All the anger he’d fostered toward her over the evening disintegrated. He felt the pull of her body on his and had the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  “You’re still up,” he said unnecessarily.

  “I was hoping to say good-night to Tony.”

  “I just dropped him off in his room. I’m sure he’s sound asleep already.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She squinted. “You shaved your beard and mustache.”

  He stroked his clean chin. “Like it?”

  “It’s late, Kendall.” She started to close the door.

  “I’m sorry I brought him home late. We lost track of time.”

  “I understand.”

  “It won’t happen again,” he promised.

  She nodded. “It’s okay, really. I’m going to have to learn to share him for a while.”

  “For a while?” he asked, his anger reigniting. “How about for the rest of his life?”

  She touched her forehead. “I’m tired, I misspoke.”

  Through the open door, the bed they had occupied for the better part of three days mocked him. All of those private moments when Amy could’ve told him about his son, could’ve prepared him, could’ve explained why she’d kept their child a secret. But what made him most angry was, despite her cruel deceit, he still wanted to press her down in those sheets and make love to her until dawn.

  “Kendall, was there something else you wanted?”

  He snapped out of his reverie. “No. Good night.”

  Kendall turned and strode away, his entire body vibrating with frustration. He needed to persuade Amy to stay in Sweetness so he could be with his son. But he wasn’t sure he wanted her to stay if they couldn’t be together.

  26

  For the next few weeks they settled into a tolerable, if not comfortable, routine of Kendall picking up Tony from school for a couple of hours of work, then delivering him back to the boardinghouse where Amy helped him with homework. On Saturdays, Tony spent the day with Kendall and slept in the bunkhouse. On Sundays, he was with Amy all day.

  But the exchanges were contentious because Amy felt as if Tony was always too tired to complete his homework, while Kendall argued that she’d agreed that Tony working to pay off the fine was the right life lesson. And no matter how much Amy prepared herself to see Kendall, no matter how often she promised herself she wouldn’t let him goad her into saying something cutting or unpleasant, the mere sight of him undid all those assurances that had seemed so ironclad when she’d made them. Unintended words flew out of her mouth like arrows, and each encounter seemed to escalate. She would always walk away feeling miserable that Tony had witnessed yet another altercation between his parents.

  She was afraid the strain was wearing on him.

  It was certainly wearing on her.

  Kendall had made it clear that he would never forgive her for not telling him about Tony, and that he thought she’d done a substandard job of raising his son. The fact that she knew how he felt about her, yet she still lay awake at nights thinking about his big body arching into hers, left her feeling ashamed.

  But hadn’t he always been her weakness?

  Amy sipped a cup of coffee as she scanned the nearly completed covered bridge. It promised to be a spectacle. By her estimation, they would be finished within another two weeks, which would coincide with the end of the school quarter. If she could hold on and hold out for another two weeks, she’d be home free.

  Home. Back in Broadway.

  The sight of Kendall’s black truck made her pulse jump, as if she’d conjured him up with her thoughts. She frowned when she saw that Tony was in the passenger seat. She glanced at her watch—it was too early for school to be out. When Tony climbed out and looked up, her stomach dropped. He had a black eye.

  She strode toward them, trying not to panic. “Tony, what happened?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Kendall said.

  She glared at him, angry that he would dismiss her concern. “I asked Tony.” She put her hand under Tony’s chin and angled his injured eye toward her. “Tell me.”

  Tony grimaced. “I got in a fight.”

  “What about?”

  He shrugged.

  “I asked you a question, young man.”

  “It was with an older boy,” Kendall said.

  She looked up. It was obvious that Tony had called Kendall when he’d gotten in trouble. Not her. “If you don’t mind, Kendall, I’m addressing my son.” She looked back to Tony. “Who had better speak if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Leave me alone.” Tony swatted away her hand, then turned and jumped back in the truck and locked the doors.

  “Tony!” she shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “Leave him be,” Kendall said, his hand on her arm. “He got into a fight over a girl. He was too embarrassed to call you.”

  Amy blinked. “A girl? What girl?”

  “The girl who comes here every day to take pictures.”

  “Betsy?”

  “Yeah. Apparently an older boy was bothering her, and Tony said something to him and they got into a fight. The other boy definitely got the worse end of it.”

  She was incredulous. “You’re gloating? I can’t believe this—I’ve taught my son not to fight and you’re encouraging it?”

  Kendall grunted. “He’s a boy, Amy! He has testosterone, and a lot of it. He’s going to be aggressive at times. I’d much rather see him get in trouble for defending someone than for vandalizing a school!”

  “You only think that’s worse because it happened on my watch,” she said. “But when he does something and he’s been under your influence, you find a way to justify it.”

  “That’s not true!” he shouted. “There’s a big difference in doing something wrong for the right reason and doing something wrong just for kicks. I’ve been trying to teach him how to be a responsible man, to stick up for people who can’t fend for themselves.”

  “So he gets hurt himself?” Amy shouted back. “This is exactly the kind of Southern macho bull crap I didn’t want him to learn, Kendall! It’s just posturing, like the whole surname thing!”

  “A son should have his father’s name—he’s an Armstrong!”

  “He has a name already—it’s Bradshaw!”

  “Stop fighting!” Tony yelled through the windshield.

  When Amy turned her head to look at her son inside the truck, he had his hands over his ears. Of course he’d heard everything they’d said—they’d been shouting at the top of their lungs. Amy looked around and realized the machinery on the jobsite had quieted and the workers were staring in their direction, too. Everyone had heard them.

  She looked at Kendall and he realized it, too.

  “Was he expelled?” she asked, her voice calm now.

  “No.” His voice was quieter, too. “He has to sit in detention when he goes back Monday.”

  “What about his eye?”

  “I stopped at the clinic on the way here and Nikki took a look at it. She gave him an ice pack and some over-the-counter painkiller. He’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I thought I’d take him to Clover Ridge on four-wheelers to visit the homestead and do some chores around the cemetery. We can roast hot dogs for dinner. I believe he can handle one of the smaller ATV’s…if that’s okay with you.”

  She nodded. “He’d like that. But let me talk to him first. Can you unlock the doors?”

  Kendall pulled out his keyless entry remote control and unlocked the truck doors. Amy walked around to the driver’s side and opened it to climb in. She closed the door behind her, then sat back in the seat.

  After a few minutes’ silence, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Tony asked.

>   “For yelling at your father in front of you. We both care about you, but we have different ideas about how to raise you. It’s not fair to you.”

  “Mom, when can we go home?”

  “Soon. The bridge is nearly finished, and the winter quarter ends in what—two weeks?” She smiled. “I can bear it for two more weeks if you can.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, too, for fighting.”

  “I know. Listen, your dad wants to take you out on four-wheelers to see where he grew up. Would you like that?”

  He grinned. “Yeah!”

  “Wear a helmet,” she said, wagging a finger. “And don’t drive fast.”

  “Mom.”

  She smiled. “And have fun.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  How long had it been since he’d offered it first? “I love you, too.”

  “Don’t kiss me.”

  “Can I at least make the smooching noise?”

  “Mom.”

  “Okay. Be careful.” She opened the door and dropped to the ground. Kendall stood there, expectant.

  Would he ever stop making her heart thrash in her chest? “We’re good. Will you let me know when he’s in tonight?”

  “Sure.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but she didn’t dare risk another argument, so she turned and headed back toward the jobsite and immersed herself in the details of getting the final touches put on the covered bridge. The full skeleton was up, including the ceiling trusses. The pedestrian sidewalk was also complete. All temporary steel support had been removed and the bridge was now a self-supporting timber structure. Many details remained to be completed, including siding, roof and shingles. But she was very pleased with the progress.

  A few minutes later, Betsy arrived, camera in tow. She took a few pictures, then looked all around.

  “Ms. Bradshaw, is Tony going to be here today?”

  “No. He’s out with his father.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Can you give him a message for me?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “The message is…I think he’s kind of cool.” She lifted the camera and resumed taking pictures.

  Amy shook her head. That Southern macho bull crap had worked on her when she was a teenager. Apparently, it was still working.

  27

  Kendall stood at the door to his son’s room. “Good night, Tony.”