Corinna had a talk with Nora Nichols, who promptly went outside to deal with her son. Back in the kitchen she found Agatha fussing over Caleb, cleaning his shirt with a damp cloth while Alanna silently dried dishes.
“They’re horrible children,” Agatha said huffily. “Their parents spoil them rotten, never offer them any consistent discipline, and then wonder why they behave so badly.”
“Let’s just get back to work,” Corinna said quietly. “Caleb, you needn’t wash dishes if you don’t want to.”
His words were clipped, his voice tightly controlled. “My dad says except for havin’ babies, there’s no such thing as women’s work and men’s work. A person does what he has to do.”
“Your dad is exactly right,” Agatha agreed.
They worked in an uncomfortably quiet atmosphere until only one load of dishes remained on the counter. “Caleb, would you mind taking this trash bag outside?” Corinna asked as she tied the top into neat knots. “The garbage cans are out this door, down the steps, and around the corner to the left.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Alanna set a serving platter down with more force than necessary. “I hate Kenny and Garth.”
“Hate what they did, dear, not them,” Corinna counseled.
“What they did is just part of who they are. They’re mean to everyone, but especially to kids who are … are …” She sputtered, trying to find the right word.
“Vulnerable.”
“Yeah, that, and I hate them!”
While Agatha calmed Alanna, Corinna went to work on the last dishes. After a few minutes, though, she dried her hands. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to see what’s taking Caleb so long.”
J.D. was on his way out of the office to a staff meeting when the secretary flagged him down. “Yes, Miss Corinna, he’s right here,” she said into the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear. “Hang on one second.”
He took the phone with a glance at his watch. Staff meetings at Bethlehem Memorial were pretty informal, but, barring emergencies, he generally tried to show up on time. Once this one was over, he was taking the rest of the afternoon off. He was planning to pick up dinner at Harry’s and the kids at the Winchesters’, then head out to the house for a good four or five hours of work. He might even decide, somewhere along the way, to invite Kelsey along.
“Miss Corinna, what can I do for you?” he asked with a smile. The smile faded as she spoke. When she finished, he said quietly, “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Thanks for calling me.” He handed the phone back to the secretary. “Call up to the meeting and tell them I’m not going to be able to make it today. I’ve got a problem with one of the kids.”
“Hope it’s not too serious,” she called as he walked away.
It took only a few minutes to make the drive from the hospital to the church, not nearly enough time for J.D. to calm down. He parked in the back lot, took a few deep breaths, then walked around the corner to the kitchen door.
On one side of the room, surrounded by fussing women, was Kenny Howard. Miss Agatha, Miss Corinna, and Alanna stood in the middle, wearing identical troubled looks, and just inside the door, arms folded across his chest and by himself, stood Caleb.
Though he bore little physical resemblance to Trey, in that instant they could have been twins. Caleb wore the same anger, the same resentment, and the same bitter hatred as the image of Trey that haunted J.D. He saw Trey’s features superimposed on Caleb’s, heard Trey’s anguished pleas for J.D. to stay away, felt the undeniable burden of his own guilt.
In that instant he knew Caleb had to go.
He stopped in front of the boy, who coldly met his gaze. They stared at each other for several moments, then J.D. looked away, after taking in the mussed hair, the cut lip, the T-shirt stained with food and blood.
Without saying a word he crossed the room, brushed Fern Howard aside, and pulled the bloody towel from Kenny’s face. The boy’s nose was puffy, but the swelling was no more than J.D. would expect from a solid punch. Pushing the towel back in place, next he removed the ice pack Nora Nichols was holding to Kenny’s left eye. It was swollen too, and discoloring quickly, but it was no more impressive than the shiners Kenny had given other kids over the years.
“That boy shouldn’t be here.” Fern’s voice was soft, but in the still room it carried easily. “I realize he’s troubled and you’re trying to help him, but—”
J.D. interrupted her. “You don’t realize anything, Fern. Keep his head tilted back and put pressure on his nose, like this.” Lifting the towel once again, he pressed his fingertips together just underneath the bridge of the boy’s nose. “Keep using the ice pack on his eye. If he has any problems later—an increase in pain, the bleeding won’t stop, headaches, whatever—take him to the emergency room. You”—he pointed to Caleb—“come with me.”
Caleb pivoted around, pushed through the door, and let it slam behind him. By the time J.D. got outside, he was turning the corner ahead.
“Dr. J.D.!” Alanna caught up with him, grabbed his arm. “It wasn’t Caleb’s fault!”
“It wasn’t Caleb’s fault that his fist connected with Kenny’s eye? That it almost broke Kenny’s nose?”
“But Kenny started it! He’s a horrible child, Miss Agatha said so! He deserved a black eye and a broken nose and a whole lot more!”
“Well, Lannie, unfortunately we can’t go around giving people what we think they deserve.” He turned her back toward the church. “Go back inside. We’ll see you later.”
He watched until she obeyed, then reluctantly went after Caleb. The boy, looking mutinous and not the least bit remorseful, waited beside the truck. Once they were both settled inside, instead of starting the engine, J.D. faced him. “What happened?”
Caleb stared straight ahead. “I hit him.”
“I’d say that was fairly obvious. Why?”
He simply shook his head.
His silence sharpened the edge to J.D.’s voice. “You don’t have an answer? You don’t know why? You hit him for no reason?”
This time he offered no response at all.
J.D. breathed in deeply, seeking patience and trying to separate Trey and Caleb in his mind and in his emotions. When he was calmer, he tried again. “Alanna says it’s not your fault. She says Kenny started it.”
Caleb’s eyes shifted just a bit toward J.D., then he caught himself and stared even harder at the stone wall in front of them.
“Of course that’s no surprise. Kenny usually does start it. But you were wrong to finish it.”
He expected the boy to protest, to defend himself, to tell him that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but Caleb didn’t say a thing.
“You want to tell your side?”
Not a word.
With a sigh J.D. turned the key. They drove home in silence. When they walked in the door, the phone was ringing. J.D. looked at the caller ID, then grimaced. “Get cleaned up, then go to your room.”
Caleb walked as far as the hallway, then turned back. “I hate you.” His voice was flat, dull, so empty of emotion that J.D. had no doubt he meant the words with every fiber of his being.
J.D. lifted the receiver. “You don’t waste any time, do you, Ms. Malone? Of course, the Howards don’t waste any time either, do they?”
“No. I just got off the phone with Reverend Howard. He was not happy with the way you and I are doing our jobs. Can I come over?”
“Nice of you to ask, considering you have that right, regardless of what I say.”
She was silent for a moment. Trying to judge his mood? Lots of luck, because he wasn’t sure himself exactly what he was feeling. He was angry—with Kenny for being such a brat, with Caleb for getting into trouble, with himself for not knowing how to handle it. Frustrated because he knew Caleb needed something right now—friendship, understanding, affection, support—that he couldn’t give. Guilty because he’d taken responsibility for the boy when he could hardly bear to deal with
him. Sick because he was failing. Again.
“If this is a bad time, I can come later,” Kelsey said quietly.
“No. Now is fine.” Maybe she could provide Caleb what he couldn’t.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
J.D. hung up and started down the hall. As he passed the bathroom, the door opened and Caleb stepped out, his hair wet and slicked back, his soiled clothes in a ball. J.D.’s gaze settled on his mouth, and he reached out to tilt his chin up. “Let me see.”
Caleb grabbed his wrist with surprising strength for a skinny, underfed child. “Don’t touch me.”
J.D. forced another couple of deep breaths, then quietly commanded, “Let go of me, Caleb.”
After a few moments, Caleb obeyed.
“Don’t grab me again.”
“Don’t ever touch me again.” Caleb eased past without making contact, threw his clothes through the open laundry room door, then went into the guest room, closing the door quietly behind him.
J.D. stared at the wall, still feeling the throb in his wrist. He didn’t need another Trey in his life, couldn’t survive another Trey, and he was going to tell Kelsey so as soon as she got there. He would be happy to keep the younger three kids, but Caleb had to go—for his own sake, but most especially for J.D.’s.
The peal of the doorbell made him flinch. Spinning around, he stalked down the hall, opened the door, then went into the kitchen without waiting for Kelsey. She came in, closed the door behind her, then watched as he searched the cabinets.
“Misplace something?” she asked.
He closed the last cabinet door, then leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, hands tucked flat so they couldn’t knot into fists. “Just my common sense.”
“I usually leave mine in the kitchen too, when I grab those bags of chocolate kisses or finish off a half-gallon of ice cream in one sitting.” Her faint smile faded when he didn’t respond to her teasing. “Where is Caleb?”
“In the guest room.”
She started to walk away, then came back. “May I suggest something? You’ve had the kids for more than two weeks now. Don’t you think you could refer to the room where they’re sleeping as their room?”
He glared at her but said nothing.
“Gee, excuse me while I go talk to someone whose behavior is sure to be a little more adult,” she said sarcastically as she turned away.
He wanted to call her back, to tell her that he couldn’t keep Caleb any longer. To plead with her to pack the kid’s clothes and take him away. To hold her until everything was all right again. But he stood where he was and listened to her footsteps, her knock on the door, her soft “Caleb, may I come in, please?” When the door opened, then closed, and the house became relatively silent again, he jerked open the refrigerator and grabbed a soda.
He really needed a drink.
Kelsey looked around the bedroom, noticing the changes since the last time she’d been there. There were more books and games on the shelves, and posters hung on the walls. Two were cartoon characters, the third the teenage heartthrob from a recent hit movie. The posters had been prizes at one of the carnival game booths. She’d seen countless other kids carrying them Saturday.
When she stopped to study the movie poster, Caleb finally spoke. “Grade’s never seen any movies except on TV the last couple weeks, and she doesn’t have any idea who that is, but the girls ahead of her made a big deal over him, so she wanted it too.”
“I don’t see as many movies as I used to. I’m not sure I know who he is.” Kelsey turned toward his bunk. “There’s a theater downtown. Maybe some Saturday afternoon we can all go to the movies.” Back in the city, she and her single friends had had a regular dinner-and-movie night, since dates to provide the same were few and far between for most of them. She’d always liked that moment in the theater when the lights went down, the screen lit up, and music swelled from the speakers. She had actually thought about a solo dinner-and-movie night here, but the theater’s sole screen was home only to second-run family features. Perfect for the Brown kids, not so perfect for a single adult out alone.
“Maybe,” Caleb muttered. He lay on his back, his bare toes pointed toward the ceiling. All it would take was one good growth spurt, and he’d be too big for the bed. But it wasn’t likely to happen in the next few weeks, and after that he’d be living someplace else.
“Want to sit up and talk to me?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She laid her bag on the dresser, kicked off her flats, then started climbing the ladder.
Caleb raised up on one elbow. “Hey, what are you doing? You can’t come up here.”
“Why not? The beds seem sturdy enough.” Grasping the footboard, she rocked from side to side, but the bunks were solid.
“Because you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t climb up on bunk beds. Just kids do.”
“Oh, so that explains why you’re shorter and look so much younger than me.” Gathering her skirt around her, she eased onto the mattress. He scrambled to sit at the other end, knees drawn to his chest. She stayed at her end, legs dangling over the side. “I always wanted bunk beds when I was a kid, but my mom was afraid I’d fall off the top. That happened to my brother once at a friend’s house. He had to have sixteen stitches to sew up his head where he hit his buddy’s roller skates.” She glanced at him. “You worry about falling off?”
“No.”
“What do you worry about besides your dad?”
He scowled and lowered his gaze. “Nothing.”
“You worry about getting in trouble? Maybe getting teased a bit?”
“No.”
“You know I got called about what happened at church.” She looked at his lip. “I don’t think you’re going to be eating any lemons for a while. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Anything hurt besides your lip and your pride?”
“No.”
“You want to tell me what happened? All I have is Kenny Howard’s version, and from what I hear, he’s not exactly reliable. You took the trash out for Miss Corinna and …?”
He stared down at nothing while his fingers nervously worked against one another. Finally he blew out his breath. “Kenny and his friends was out there. They was mad ’cause Miss Corinna got Garth in trouble for dumping his lunch scraps on my shirt.
“I put the trash in the can and started to leave, but they wouldn’t move. They were laughing and saying things, mostly Kenny, and finally I hit him.” The look he gave her was so serious, it added ten years to his face. “I warned him first. I told him if he didn’t move, I would move him. And he just laughed. So I did.”
“You hit him.”
“No. I shoved him. Then he hit me, and I hit him back. Twice. And then Miss Corinna came out.” He fell silent, then, looking like a child again, asked, “Am I in trouble? Are you gonna arrest me?”
“No, you’re not going to get arrested.” She reached out to pat his knee and was somewhat surprised that he let her. “You know, Caleb, violence never solves anything. It’s always better to walk away.” But the words left a sour taste in her mouth because they weren’t true. Sometimes violence did solve problems. Sometimes walking away was impossible. Still, she went on with the responsible-adult speech. “There are always going to be people like Kenny Howard around. You can’t give every one of them bloody noses and black eyes. Your knuckles would get mighty sore if you did.”
He glanced down at the reddened knuckles on his right hand and smiled faintly.
“You have to find another way of dealing with them. Right now it might be as simple as avoiding Kenny. Whenever he’s around, find some friends and stay close to them. People like Kenny will leave you alone if your friends outnumber his.”
“I don’t have any friends.”
The softly uttered words created a knot in her throat. “So make some. It’s not so hard to do.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue the point with
her, but he didn’t. Instead, his features settled into a scowl. “Is he gonna make me leave?”
“Leave?”
“And go live somewhere else.”
The idea surprised her. J.D. had admitted that he had difficulty relating to Caleb, but he’d also indicated that he was determined to overcome that difficulty. There was no way he would turn his back on him now, particularly for so minor an infraction. “Of course not,” she insisted, then thought to ask, “Did he say he was?”
“He didn’t say much at all. He was more worried about Kenny than about me. He didn’t even ask …” His voice trailed off from low to inaudible.
“Didn’t even ask what, Caleb?”
He slid lower on the bed, his body twisted awkwardly, the pillow crumpled underneath his head. “He just walked in, looked at Kenny’s nose and his eye, and talked to his mom, then pointed at me and said, ‘You, come with me.’ ” He did a creditable imitation of J.D.’s deeper voice. “He didn’t even ask if it hurt.”
Kelsey climbed down from the bunk, then went to the other end, resting her arms on the mattress, her chin on her hands. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. Some. But not bad.”
“You know, he’s a doctor. He could probably tell it wasn’t bad by looking.”
“Maybe. But if it’d been Gracie or Noah or Jacob, he’d’ve asked. If it’d been Gracie or Noah or Jacob, he’d have stood up for ’em and not blamed ’em without finding out what happened. He blamed me. He hates me.”
“No, Caleb, you’re wrong.”
“He does, but that’s okay, ’cause I hate him too, and Miss Corinna says that’s the best thing to do.”
Kelsey was positive something had gotten lost in the translation there, but she didn’t question him. She just rested her hand on his shoulder. “No one hates you, Caleb. You’re just having a tough time right now. It’ll get better, I promise.”
“Not until my dad comes back. If he doesn’t …” He turned onto his side, curled into the fetal position, then fixed his too-adult gaze on her. “Things’ll never get better.”
Father to Be Page 21
