Father to Be

by Marilyn Pappano

  “J. D. Grayson the third. Everyone calls me Trey.”

  She glanced at him. “I don’t imagine you’d tell me what the J.D. in your name stands for.”

  His grin was wry. “It’s a family secret.” Immediately, at the mention of family, the grin faded. The name—and the secret—was the only thing he still shared with that family, Kelsey thought sadly. That and, of course, a great love and sorrow for his mother.

  “You know my dad?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed heavily. “I don’t.”

  “It’s hard to get to know someone when you’ve cut him out of your life.”

  He gave her a long, steady look that reminded her of J.D. “He wasn’t ever a part of my life, not only after my mom died.”

  After my mom died. Not After he killed my mom. That was a good sign, she thought. “No. I understand he was working long hours.”

  “And drinking gallons of booze. And caring more about total strangers than he did his own family.”

  He spoke in the same tone Caleb had used after the run-in with Kenny Howard at the church. He didn’t even ask if it hurt … if it’d been Gracie or Noah or Jacob, he’d’ve asked. “It may have seemed that way, Trey, but he loved you and your mother very much. He just didn’t do a very good job of showing you.” Though she had no doubt that Carol Ann had known.

  “So … is he still sober?”

  She nodded. “He has been since your mother’s death.”

  “Good for him.” But he didn’t sound very sincere. In fact, he sounded as if the next logical comment would be a question—why couldn’t he have gotten sober and stayed that way before she died? Why did he find the strength to stay sober now, when the family had already been destroyed, instead of two and a half years ago, when they could have been saved?

  She wished, for J.D.’s sake, for Trey’s and his grandparents’, that J.D. had found sobriety earlier than two and a half years ago. But if he had, he would be living happily here in Chicago with the woman he’d loved dearly. He wouldn’t be a part of Kelsey’s life, and yes, it was selfish, but she wanted him in her life. She needed him.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s still a psychiatrist. He works at the hospital in Bethlehem, and he also sees patients at the schools and the nursing home.”

  As they’d walked, the houses had gradually given way to businesses. Now they stood at an intersection with shops on all four corners. Trey gestured toward the McDonald’s across the street. “Want a Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  He was the one who paid for a hamburger and two Cokes. He polished off half the burger in two bites before asking, “Why’d you come here?”

  “J.D.—your father—”

  “You can call him J.D.”

  She nodded with a tinge of regret. “He’s had temporary custody of four foster children—three boys and a girl, ages five to twelve. He wants to keep them. My boss found put that he’s a recovering alcoholic who lost custody of his own son, and she wants the kids placed elsewhere.”

  “He didn’t lose custody of me. He gave it up.”

  “He thought it was best for you. He thought it was what you wanted.” She folded her hands together to stop her fingers from knotting. “He tried to keep in touch with you. He called and wrote you letters.”

  “I know. In the beginning I didn’t want to talk to him or read his letters, and Grandma and Granddad said I didn’t have to, so I didn’t. But once”—a sheepish look came onto his face—“I hid one of the letters from them, and after they went to bed, I steamed it open and read it, and I felt—really weird. Kinda bad for him and—and kinda bad for me too, like I’d done something wrong. But I didn’t. He was the alcoholic. He was the one driving drunk when Mom died.”

  Kelsey watched as he finished off the burger, then crumpled the wrapper with great attention to detail. She was always amazed by the capacity for forgiveness shown by the abused and neglected children in the state’s care, always wondered where that kind of love came from and often wished it would go away. Abuse and neglect were easier to deal with if you didn’t dearly love the person guilty of them. Rejection and abandonment didn’t hurt so deeply when the person rejecting and abandoning you wasn’t of utmost importance in your life.

  Now, though, she found herself wishing that Trey Grayson possessed just a little of that forgiveness and love those other kids had, that he wasn’t so aware that he had good reason to hate his father.

  “You’re absolutely justified in breaking off contact with J.D.,” she said quietly. “He made a lot of mistakes, mistakes that hurt you, and he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s worked very hard to get where he is today. He’s struggled to rebuild his life, to rebuild himself. He’s not the same man you used to know. He’s a very kind, generous man who’s admired, respected, and loved by everyone in Bethlehem, including those foster kids.”

  He gave her another of those long, steady J.D. looks but said nothing.

  “The custody hearing is tomorrow. It would mean a lot if you would testify on his behalf.”

  “He never had time to be a father to me, never even tried to get custody of me, and you want me to go to court and say that I think he’d be a good father for those other kids?”

  She smiled faintly. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? To even consider that, you would have to have some feeling for him besides hatred.”

  “I don’t hate him exactly,” he admitted grudgingly. “Sometimes I wonder, you know, what he’s like, how he’s doing. Sometimes I wonder if he’s sorry, if he still misses Mom, if he—if he misses me. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten all about me. He never really cared much in the first place, or he wouldn’t have always been working and he wouldn’t have just let Grandma and Granddad have me, but sometimes …” His voice trailed away until it was barely audible. “Sometimes I wonder.”

  She laid her hand over his. “He’s very sorry, Trey. You and your mother are the biggest sorrows, the biggest regrets in his life. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Go back with me tomorrow, and he’ll be more than willing to tell you himself.”

  His expression took on that troubled look again. After a moment, without answering, he slid out of the booth and picked up his trash. “We’d better go home. Grandma and Granddad will be worried.”

  Reluctantly Kelsey followed him outside. They made the return trip more or less in silence, their only conversation meaningless remarks about summer and weather. When they got to the Whittaker house, she handed him a card with the number of her hotel and her departing flight information on the back. “Call me.”

  He looked at it, then glanced over his shoulder at his grandparents. “I don’t know.”

  “Your dad wasn’t there for you when you needed him—I understand that. But if you find it in your heart to give him another chance, I promise he’ll never let you down like that again.”

  “Granddad says Mom gave him too many chances and it got her killed.”

  “And what would your mom say to that?”

  He shrugged awkwardly.

  “Think about it.” She closed his fingers over the card, then wrapped her own fingers around his. “Think about what your mom would want you to do. Think about what you want to do. Will you do that?”

  After another look at his grandparents, he nodded.

  She couldn’t ask for anything more. “Thank you for your time. I hope to hear from you.” She started across the street, then, after a few steps, turned back. “Trey? It was an honor meeting you.”

  His cheeks colored and he mumbled some response before turning to run up the sidewalk.

  She’d done all she could. Now she could only wait … and pray.

  Kelsey’s note to J.D. was short—I’ll be back—but waiting for her to return was taking forever.

  People got swept away in the heat of a moment. Spurred on by passion, people said and did things that they later regretted. Maybe she was off somewhere,
regretting that afternoon. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to deal with it, how to let him down without risking the delicate balance he’d finally regained.

  But she loved him, had told him so while he slept. He knew in his soul it hadn’t been a dream. She believed in him, and the least he could do was return the favor.

  That didn’t stop him from worrying though.

  He waited through the night, dialing numbers by instinct, leaving messages that edged into pleading. He by in his bed, where the smells of her clung to the sheets, listened to Bud’s snores down the hall, and waited.

  He’d finally dozed off when the phone rang. Instantly awake, he grabbed it, but it wasn’t Kelsey. It was Mitch Walker.

  “Good news, J.D. We just got a call from the Binghamton P.D. They picked up Caleb tonight. Other than being scared and hungry, he appears to be in good shape. They said he wants you to come pick him up. He was insistent about that.” Mitch stopped to yawn. “I can’t get hold of Kelsey. She isn’t with you, by chance, is she?”

  “No. I’ve been trying to reach her too.”

  “I told them you’d be there in a couple or three hours. That a problem?”

  “No. I’ll leave now.”

  Mitch yawned again. “Talk to Detective Mendez. He’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks, Mitch. Thanks a lot.” His hand trembling, J.D. hung up, then closed his eyes. Thank God, Caleb was safe. If he only knew the same about Kelsey …

  It was a long drive to Binghamton. By the time J.D. parked in front of the police station, the sun was up and his stomach was growling. He spoke to the detective who’d found Caleb, showed his identification, and signed endless forms before the kid was finally brought out to him.

  Caleb shuffled along beside the officer, his gaze cast down, looking as bereft as anyone J.D. had ever seen. When he stopped a few feet away, J.D. cupped his chin, pushed his head back. There were no new marks on his face, just a few dirty streaks across one cheek. His bottom lip was trembling though, and his eyes were so full of tears that one blink was going to wash them over.

  “Are you all right?”

  Caleb nodded mutely.

  “You are grounded forever.” Then, wrapping his hand around Caleb’s neck, J.D. pulled the boy to him in a fierce hug. “My God, Caleb, I was so scared—”

  Pressing his face against J.D.’s shirt, Caleb burst into sobs that racked his thin body. “I’m sorry, doc! I’m so sorry! I thought—I thought you didn’t want me and ever’one would be happier if I was gone, but I didn’t have no place to go and I was scared and—” He pushed back to look up at J.D. with anguish. “My dad’s never comin’ back, and I—I want to go home.”

  J.D. held him until he was all cried out, until he’d cried a few tears of his own, then dried Caleb’s face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “I thought I didn’t want you too,” he admitted, “but I was wrong. I do want you, Caleb. I want you and the others to stay with me forever. But first …” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s talk about your dad, and let me tell you about my son.”

  The hearing was set for eleven o’clock. It was half past when J.D. parked his truck down the block and he and Caleb hurried to the courthouse. Half the town, it seemed, was gathered outside. Some were there, no doubt, to testify on his behalf. Others waited to wish him well and to welcome Caleb back. He saw all the people who had come to mean so much to him in the last year and a half—everyone but the kids.

  And Kelsey.

  They made their way inside the courtroom, and the hope he’d been harboring all the way to Binghamton and back died. She wasn’t there. Judge McKechnie was on the bench, the court reporter at her seat in front of him. Bill Robbins, the district attorney, was chatting at the defense table with Julian Freeman. Mary Therese sat on the first row in the gallery, along with one of the intake workers from her Howland office, a young woman named Lisa, and Jacob, Noah, and Gracie were beside them—at least, until they saw Caleb.

  With excited cries they surrounded him, Gracie and Noah climbing into his arms. While the four of them huddled together, J.D. approached Mary Therese. “Where is Kelsey?”

  Her only response was a grim shake of her head.

  “I thought …” He sighed dejectedly. “I thought maybe she was working. Doing something for you.” Or something for him, for them. I’ll do what I can to help you, she’d promised. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that might be running away.

  No. He believed in her. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she hadn’t run away.

  “I don’t know where she is.” Mary Therese shifted uncomfortably. “J.D., I’m sorry for what’s going to happen here. I believe you’re a good man, but—with your history … We have to be so careful. I’m sorry.”

  Looking up from the papers in front of him, Judge McKechnie cleared his throat. “Now that Dr. Grayson and young Caleb have decided to grace us with their presence, shall we get this show under way?” He gave them a moment to take their seats. “Now, as I understand, the allegation of abuse has been dropped. Caleb, Garth Nichols says you got those injuries in a fight with him and some other boys. Is that correct?”

  The judge easily intimidated grown men, but Caleb got to his feet and unflinchingly met his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll discuss your lies later, young man. Right now we’re going to skip on to the issue of custody. You children will wait next door with—what’s your name? Lisa. Just take them through that door.” He waited until they were gone, then turned to the D.A. “Bill?”

  Robbins called Mary Therese to the stand. She hit—and hit hard—on everything—his alcoholism, Carol Ann’s death, and, most especially, the fact that he’d given up custody of Trey. She was apologetic, but she was also unswerving in her belief that in light of this recently uncovered information, he was not a good candidate to take custody of four young children.

  Mary Therese was the D.A.’s only witness. Jillian called each of the kids, who said yes, they wanted to stay with J.D. Next she called an interesting mix of character witnesses—Bud, Miss Corinna, Mitch Walker, and Alanna Dalton among them. Everyone said what a nice guy he was, how much they liked and respected him, how they couldn’t imagine anyone better to take care of the Brown children.

  It was heartwarming, J.D. thought sadly as the last witness left the stand, but it wasn’t enough. If he’d been called as an expert witness, there strictly as a psychiatrist to determine whether an alcoholic—even one who hadn’t had a drink in two years, four months, and counting—whose own son refused to live with him should have custody of four children not his own, he would side with Mary Therese.

  If he was going to get the kids back, it would depend on his testimony. He would need the most eloquent, most persuasive arguments he could come up with, but his mind was blank. All he could think was that he was losing the kids and he might have already lost Kelsey, and then what would he have?

  He was staring bleakly at the scarred oak table when the bailiff came in and handed a note to Julian. She scanned it, spoke to the man, then faced the judge. “Your Honor, for my next witness I’d like to call J. D. Grayson.” When he started to stand, she laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. “The third.”

  J.D. jerked around in his chair as the door at the back of the courtroom opened. Earl and Bev Whittaker came in first, followed by Kelsey—beautiful Kelsey, who hadn’t let him down at all—and, beside her, a tall, slender, dark-haired young man. He was the most incredible person J.D. had seen in his life.

  As Trey approached the front, his gaze met J.D.’s and the faintest of smiles touched his mouth. J.D. dumped back in his chair, barely noticing when Kelsey sat down behind him, when she laid her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

  His son. She’d brought him his son.

  Julian approached the witness stand. “Your name is J. D. Grayson the third. What do you prefer to be called?”

  “I go by Trey.” His voice was deeper than before and sounded remarkably grown-up. His l
ittle boy had grown up, J.D. thought with a bittersweet ache, and he’d missed it. All of it.

  “What is your relationship to Dr. Grayson?”

  Trey glanced his way again. “He’s my father.”

  “But you don’t live with him, do you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Why not?”

  “When my mother died, I blamed him. She was killed in a car wreck, and he was driving, and I thought it was his fault because”—he nervously glanced J.D.’s way, then turned his attention back to Jillian—“because he was drunk. After that he had to go away, to get help for his drinking, and I stayed with my mom’s parents. I still live with them.”

  “And do you still blame your father for your mother’s death?”

  Trey looked at him then, really looked. J.D. felt as if his answer could make or break his life. Then the boy returned his attention to Jillian. “No.”

  “Why not? What’s changed?”

  He shrugged. “Everything, I guess. Me. Him. I’m not still mad. He’s not still drinking. I’ve grown up. I think maybe he’s not so grown-up.”

  “And is that a good thing?”

  Trey chuckled. It was an amazing sight. “Oh, yeah. You don’t know what he was like before.”

  “Tell us.”

  “He worked all the time. He wanted to be the best at any cost. People respected him, but not a lot of people liked him. Now”—he gestured toward the door—“there’s a whole town out there waiting because of him. People who respect him and like him. People who are willing to like me just for being his son. He’s got friends. He’s got a life. He’s changed. And that’s real good.”

  Jillian asked one last question. “Do you think he’s changed enough to be a good father?”

  “I don’t know,” Trey replied, his honesty seeming as painful for him as it was for J.D. “But I’d like the chance to find out.”

  “Thank you, Trey. I have no further questions.”