He shifted the baby he held to his other shoulder. The nieces and nephew outside bore a strong resemblance to their aunt, but the baby—Michael—looked just like his father. “It’s a tough situation,” he replied, and the sisters murmured their agreement.
“Why, if it was work he was looking for, Ezra Brown could have found it right here in town,” Agatha declared. “All he had to do was let someone know he was in need.”
“Did you know Mr. Brown?” Kelsey asked.
“Only to say hello to,” Agatha replied. “He and his family moved in out there … oh, six or seven years ago. They pretty much kept to themselves—didn’t come to church, take part in any of the holiday festivities, or send the children to school very regularly. That’s how Caleb wound up in Alanna’s class. He should be a year ahead of her, you know, but he got held back.”
Kelsey made a mental note to check Caleb’s school records, to identify his deficiencies and get him whatever help he might need. In the easy chair across from her, J.D. looked as if he were making the same note.
Corinna picked up where her sister left off. “We occasionally bumped into Mrs. Brown at the store. She was never particularly friendly. She always seemed rather distracted. Then suddenly we began seeing Mr. Brown. Later we heard that she had gone away.”
“Actually, we heard that she had run off with another man.”
Corinna frowned severely at Agatha. “That’s gossip.”
“It’s information, and Kelsey’s looking for information, aren’t you, dear?”
Holding back a smile, Kelsey nodded. “You said Mr. Brown could have found work here in town. Are there jobs readily available?”
“Not many,” Emilie replied. “But Bethlehem takes care of its own. Somebody would have found a job for him.”
“Maybe he was too proud to admit that he needed help.”
“Or maybe looking for work was just the excuse he gave the kids for leaving,” J.D. said flatly.
“It wasn’t an excuse.”
Everyone’s gazes shifted toward the door, where Caleb stood, his face white with anger, his thin body shaking. J.D. grimaced, then took a deep breath as he stood up and walked toward the boy. “Caleb—”
“My dad’s coming back. He said he would.”
“I hope he does.”
“Of course you do. Then you won’t be stuck with us anymore.”
“I’m not stuck with you. If I didn’t want you—”
“Liar.”
There was a moment of heavy silence. It seemed that even the kids outside had gone silent. Then J.D. reached out one hand. “Caleb—”
The instant his fingers made contact, Caleb spun around and darted away, the screen door banging behind him. Kelsey went to stand beside J.D.
“Not one word,” he muttered in warning. It wasn’t necessary. She didn’t have a word to offer.
Alanna appeared on the other side of the screen. “I’ll talk to him,” she offered anxiously. When Kelsey nodded, she raced down the steps and across the yard.
“Welcome to the world of foster parenting,” Kelsey murmured. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”
J.D. scowled at her before turning away, leaving her alone at the door.
Chapter Five
Caleb was halfway down the block by the time Alanna caught up with him. He was walking too fast, but she could keep up if she skipped along. She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she did. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer. He just shoved his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and walked faster.
“You might as well go back. You don’t have anyplace to go except Dr. J.D.’s or Miss Corinna’s.”
He started across Fifth Street even though there was a car coming. Alanna waited until it passed, then ran to catch up with him. “You can’t just keep being angry and running away, Caleb. Everybody’s sorry that your daddy left, but—”
He wheeled around and shouted right in her face, “He didn’t leave! He went to find work, and he’s coming back, and I’ll be angry if I want! I’ll do whatever the hell I want!”
She took a step back, her eyes wide, her heart thumping. If she yelled like that, or used bad words like that, Aunt Emilie would … Well, she didn’t know what Emilie would do. Be angry, she supposed—or, worse, disappointed. Just like she was disappointed in Caleb. “I know how you feel,” she said timidly.
“You don’t know nothin’.”
“I live with my aunt and uncle. Do you think that’s just for fun? Because I want to?”
For a long time he stared at her, then slowly he started walking again. This time she could keep up easier. At the corner he turned right, and she followed. They were passing their principal’s house when he asked as if he didn’t really want to know, “Where’s your parents?”
“My dad left when I was a baby. I don’t even remember him.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s in Boston.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
She sneaked a look at him. He was staring at the ground, as though he had to see exactly where he was walking or something bad might happen. After taking a deep breath, she told him something she’d never told anyone before. Not that a lot of people in town didn’t know, but she’d never told. “My mom’s an alcoholic and a drug addict. She’s been in rehab a bunch of times, and in jail. She doesn’t want us—at least, not as much as she wants to have fun.”
The words made her stomach hurt. Sometimes it was easier to not think about her mother, to pretend that it was just her, the kids, and Aunt Emilie and Uncle Nathan. Sometimes—the sad times—she couldn’t help but think about her mom and wonder why she didn’t love them more. What could they do to make her want them?
Aunt Emilie said they couldn’t make Berry do anything. She said it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t made their mom drink and use drugs, and they couldn’t make her stop. Dr. J.D. said she had to want to change, had to want it for herself, or it would never happen. Alanna didn’t understand why she couldn’t want it for them. Why couldn’t she love them more than she loved the alcohol and drugs?
“My dad wants us,” Caleb insisted. “Our mother doesn’t, but that don’t matter, ’cause he does. He wants us a lot.”
“Where did your mother go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
She wondered if he really didn’t care. No matter how mad she got at her mother for not wanting them she still loved her and worried about her. She didn’t believe there could ever be a time when she didn’t care. Maybe Caleb was just lying to hide his hurt that his mom had left them.
“Don’t you have any other family?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve got to have grandparents, or maybe aunts or uncles or cousins. Don’t you remember anybody?”
As they turned right at the next corner, he shook his head.
“Didn’t your mom and dad ever talk about anybody?”
He shook his head again.
“Didn’t they have any pictures or letters or an address book?”
“There’s a box of pictures. I found ’em when my dad didn’t come home. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know the people in ’em.”
“But maybe they’re clues. Maybe Uncle Nathan could find out who they are. He’s a good cop. He can find anybody. Let’s ask Dr. J.D. to take us out to your house to get the pictures—”
“I’m not asking him anything.” Caleb sounded mad again and hateful. It made Alanna lose hope and made her sad too, ’cause she liked Dr. J.D. He was one of her most favorite grown-ups in all of Bethlehem.
They turned toward Miss Corinna’s house and walked in silence until she saw Uncle Nathan and Dr. J.D. standing in the yard, talking. Stubbornly, she said, “Well, I’ll ask him if you’re afraid to.”
“I’m not afraid! I hate him! He’s stupid and mean and he doesn’t like us and I don’t like him and I don’t like you.” Shoving his han
ds into his pockets, he stomped off to the glider, dragged it around to the other side of the tree, and sat down hard enough to make the metal clang.
Tears filling her eyes, Alanna followed him. Even though she stood right in front of him, he wouldn’t look at her, but she didn’t care. “You know what, Caleb Brown? I don’t like you either. I just feel sorry for you.”
He looked up then, but she ran for the house, slamming the screen door behind her, racing upstairs to the canopied bed, where she slept when she stayed over. She knew someone would check on her—Aunt Emilie or Uncle Nathan, maybe Dr. J.D. or one of the sisters. She wasn’t expecting Josie.
Her younger sister crawled into bed behind her, leaning on one elbow, patting Alanna’s shoulder with her free hand. “Caleb Brown’s trouble. Aunt Emilie said so.”
Alanna sniffled. “She said troubled, Josie. There’s a difference. Someone who’s trouble is always causing problems. Someone who’s troubled already has a lot of problems.”
“Then Caleb’s both. But I like the others. I could beat up Jacob. I could beat up Noah with only one hand. He’s only one year younger than me, but he’s little. But I won’t hurt ’em. They’re kinda nice kids.” Josie leaned over, her eyes gleaming. “You and me together could beat up Caleb. Want to?”
“We’re not going to beat up anyone.” Alanna rolled onto her back, and Josie snuggled closer, using Alanna’s shoulder for a pillow. “We’ve got to be nice to them.”
“ ’Cause their mama and daddy ’bandoned them?”
“Because Aunt Emilie taught us to be nice to everyone.”
“You wasn’t nice. You told Caleb you don’t like him.”
Alanna’s face got hot. “I shouldn’t have said it. And I didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t know why not. There’s an awful lot there to not like. Even his own mama and daddy don’t like—”
“Don’t say that! It’s not true!”
“But they left ’em.”
“Our mama left us, but it didn’t have anything to do with not liking us, did it?”
Josie glared at her. “Mama loves us!”
“Well, Caleb’s mama loves him too—or, at least, his daddy does. He’s gonna come back.”
“And our mama’s gonna come back someday. She’s gonna come to Bethlehem, and we’re all gonna live together—just you and me and her and Brendan and Mikey and Aunt Emilie and Uncle Nathan. Boy, that’s a lot of people for our house. Maybe we can borrow the house across the street—you know, the one where we used to live. Or maybe we can build a house up on the mountain like Dr. J.D.’s doing. Maybe we could be neighbors with him and—” Josie twisted around to look at her. “Hey, are you done being about ready to cry? ’cause if you are, dinner’s ready. If you aren’t, Aunt Emilie’s gonna come up.”
“I’m done,” Alanna said. Later, when she had to apologize to Caleb, she might start all over again, but she was all right.
For now.
Caleb sprawled in the glider, staring at the street, where cars passed once in a while, and wished he were home. He wished he were anywhere but there, wished he didn’t even exist. He’d never been as miserable as he was then, and it was all Grayson’s fault. If he hadn’t said Caleb’s dad had lied, Caleb never would have had to prove him wrong and he wouldn’t have gone for that walk and Alanna wouldn’t have gone with him and she wouldn’t have said what she did.
I don’t like you either. I just feel sorry for you. Of course, he’d said he didn’t like her first, but he’d just been mad. He didn’t mean it. She did. He’d always known anyway that she was nice to him only ’cause she felt sorry for him. But it was different knowing something in your gut and being told so flat out to your face. Like knowing Grayson really didn’t want them. Knowing Alanna only pitied him.
Well, he didn’t need either one of them. He’d gotten along just fine without them. They could both go to hell. He didn’t care.
Behind him the screen door opened and closed. Someone had come out once to tell everyone dinner was ready, and again to ask him if he was going to eat. He hoped this was ol’ dumb Alanna going home with her family, or dumb Grayson come to make them walk to his house. But it was one of the old ladies—Miss Agatha—and she sat down at the other end of the glider. She set a plate between them, then sighed. “Look at the weeds in that flower bed. Sometimes I think all my hard work and fertilizer does them more good than my flowers.”
The food on the plate smelled good enough to make his mouth water. There was a thick slice of turkey, some mashed potatoes and gravy, a piece of bread with butter and honey, and some green beans. Lunch—soup and sandwiches—seemed a long time ago. His growling stomach said it was past time for supper, but he didn’t reach for the food. He’d been hungrier than this before. He could wait.
“I understand your father is a farmer. Is making things grow in your blood?”
He stared hard at the flowers so he wouldn’t see the plate beside him. “I had a vegetable garden.”
“Really? What did you grow?”
“Tomatoes. Zucchini. Beans.” The green beans on the plate were cut in slanted pieces and seasoned with butter and pepper and little pieces of bacon. His dad had taught him how to cook them like that, with chunks of new potatoes that he brought home from the store.
“Ah, zucchini. Plant one zucchini, feed the nation.” She laughed, then scooted the plate closer to him. “These beans are out of last year’s garden. What do you think?”
He swallowed hard, then rubbed his stomach as it growled again. While she waited, he picked up the fork, speared one bean, and chewed it. “It’s fine.”
“Oh, you can’t tell from one little piece of one bean. Try a couple. Get a taste for them.”
He let himself be coaxed only because he was hungry and she wasn’t Grayson or Alanna or the welfare lady. When the green beans were gone, he started on the potatoes, then the bread, then polished off the turkey.
Miss Agatha didn’t say anything about him finally eating. Instead, she pointed toward the flower beds. “Perhaps on the days you’re over here, you could help an old woman with her garden.”
“We don’t need to stay over here.”
“No, you probably don’t. You appear quite capable. But it’ll be good for you to have a break from all your responsibilities.”
“I don’t need a break.”
“Of course you do. Everyone needs a break at times.”
Was that what she thought his dad was doing? “My dad’s not taking a break,” he said stiffly. “He’s got a job, and he’s working really hard to save the money to bring us there to live. He probably has to work every day, even weekends, so he can save money quicker and come back sooner. He’ll take a day off real soon and come get us.”
She gave him a look that said maybe she believed what he said, but her question said she didn’t. “If that’s the case, Caleb, why hasn’t he called?”
“We don’t have no telephone. What do you expect him to do—call some stranger and say, ‘Hey, go tell my kids that I left alone that this is where I am and this is when I’ll be back’?”
“Couldn’t he write you a letter?”
“He could, but we don’t never get no mail. We don’t even check the mailbox.” They didn’t get any bills, not since the electric was shut off months ago for not paying, and it wasn’t like his mother was ever gonna write.
But what if his father did write? What if he knew that was the only way to get in touch with them without letting the cops know they were living alone? What if there was a letter out there in the mailbox right now, if their dad was somewhere waiting to hear from them before he came to get them?
Excited over the possibility, he jumped to his feet. He needed to tell the kids, but then they’d want to go with him and would slow him down. Better that he wait until he had their dad’s letters in his hand before he surprised them. “Tell—” Tell who what? Shaking his head, he said, “Thanks for dinner,” then took off down the sidewalk. Miss Agatha called his n
ame twice, but he didn’t look back. He just ran faster.
“I’m so sorry, J.D.,” Miss Agatha said as she rummaged in her handbag for the car keys. “I was trying to point out that his father could have contacted him if he’d really wanted to. I certainly never intended to give him false encouragement.”
“It’s all right, Miss Agatha. Caleb hears what he wants to hear.” She held out the keys, and J.D. all but snatched them from her hand. “The other kids—”
“We’ll take care of them. You go on now and find the boy.”
He was halfway to the driveway when Kelsey caught up with him. “I’ll go with you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s not as if he’s lost or run away. He knows exactly where he’s going. So do we.”
“But—”
“You put the kids in my care. Now let me care for them.” He stopped beside the car and she almost ran into him. “Trust me on this, Ms. Malone. I can handle it.”
She looked prepared to argue, but he didn’t give her a chance. He got into the car, started the engine, and backed into the street. With the hasty directions Nathan had given him, added to all the looking he’d done before buying his land outside of town, he knew exactly where to find the bank of mailboxes Caleb was headed for. With any luck he would spot him on the way. If somehow he missed the boy, he would wait at the mailboxes.
He chose his route based on the direction Caleb had run off. Though he kept a sharp lookout, it was the mailboxes he saw first. Maybe Caleb had taken the shortest path as the crow flew, cutting across fields or through woods.
He drove past the boxes, looking for a place wide enough to turn around the Winchesters’ full-size car. When he came to a narrow road a few hundred yards down, he remembered the rest of Nathan’s directions. In case he goes to his house, it’s the first road on the left after the mailboxes, all the way to the end.
Father to Be Page 9
