Father to Be (23 page)

“Yes. They’re making lemonade, I believe. Just go on in.”

J.D. did just that, ignoring Caleb’s glare as he climbed the steps to the door. The house was darker, cooler, and filled with sweet fragrances that whispered
home
even though he’d never lived in a home that smelled quite the same way. His mother had been a notoriously bad cook, so the only food aromas that lingered around his childhood home had been scorched and bitter. Because of Carol Ann’s myriad allergies, the house they’d shared had smelled antiseptically clean. Even his own place, with the fresh flowers Mrs. Larrabee provided every few days,
lacked the combination of aromas that he found so welcoming.

He wondered if he would find them in Kelsey’s place.

At the rate things were going, he might never get invited into Kelsey’s place to find out.

Miss Corinna was in the kitchen with Noah and Gracie. The older woman greeted him with a smile, then said, “You can pour the sugar in a little faster than that, Noah.”

Noah sat on the counter, his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, balancing a cup of sugar on the rim of a pitcher. Gracie was stirring the lemonade inside with a long wooden spoon.

“How are you, J.D.?”

He accepted Miss Corinna’s hug and kissed her cheek. “I’m fine.” It was his standard answer. Sometimes it was even true. “I came to pick up Buddy and to see if I could borrow Noah for a while.”

Startled, the boy dropped the sugar, cup, and all into the lemonade, making it splash. He looked wide-eyed from J.D. to the pitcher to Miss Corinna, then his lower lip began to tremble.

“It’s ruined!” Gracie said.

“Of course it’s not,” Miss Corinna disagreed.

“But he dropped the cup inside.”

“And the cup was clean, wasn’t it?”

“But he
touched
it.”

“And his hands are clean, aren’t they? Remember? You both washed up before we started. It’s not ruined at all, children.” Miss Corinna fished out the cup, scraped the remaining sugar into the pitcher, then laid the cup in the sink.

“What for do you want Noah?” Gracie asked.

“Buddy and I are going over to the nursing home. I thought Noah might like to keep Buddy company.”

“Why?” she asked, her gaze narrowing. Though there
was a strong family resemblance between all four kids, when she frowned, she looked uncannily—uncomfortably, for J.D.—like Caleb.

“Because Buddy needs someone to hold on to his leash and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

“I can do that,” she said boldly. “Buddy likes me.”

“I’m sure he does. But I think Noah can do it too. What do you say, Noah?”

The boy looked from him to Miss Corinna, who nodded. Turning back to J.D., he mimicked the solemn nod, then held out his arms to be lifted from the counter.

Gracie jumped to the floor and ran to the front door, flinging it open. “Caleb, Caleb, the man’s takin’ Noah to the home!”

J.D. rolled his eyes. He and Noah were in the dining room, when abruptly the boy wheeled around and headed back to the kitchen. “Miss C’rinna, will you save some lemonade for me? Please?”

“I will, Noah. Have a good time.”

J.D. made it as far as the top porch step before Caleb blocked his path. “Where’re you takin’ him?”

“To the nursing home.”

“Why? He don’t need nursin’.”

“He’s going to visit some patients with Buddy and me.”

“Will you bring him back?” Gracie asked.

“Oh, puh-leeze,” Josie said with dramatic gestures. “Of course he’ll come back! Don’t you know nothin’? A nursing home is a place for old people who can’t live by theirselves anymore. Little boys don’t stay there. My Sunday-school class goes and visits every month, and no one’s ever tried to keep any of us.”

“So why’re you takin’
him
?” Caleb demanded. “Why not Jacob? Or Gracie?”

“Or, hey, I could take you,” J.D. said, not proud of the faint sarcasm in his voice. “But today I want to take Noah.

I’m the guardian, Caleb. That means I’m the boss. And
that
means I don’t have to answer to you. Come on, Noah.”

He slowly moved ahead, forcing Caleb to step aside. Noah eased past quickly, then went to claim Buddy’s leash from Miss Agatha. The Lab was almost as tall as Noah and was probably double his weight, but he was well trained. He walked sedately at the boy’s side to the truck, jumped into the backseat, then sat down, head regally high, and gazed out the window.

As they circled the block, Noah stared silently out the side window. He was the quietest, the shyest of the four kids. He did what Caleb told him to do and played with his siblings or kept to himself. He rarely voiced an opinion or made any requests. He was a timid little shadow, devoting his energy to going unnoticed.

“You like lemonade, Noah?” J.D. asked.

His response was the merest bob of his head.

“You like Buddy?”

Another nod, this one slightly more emphatic.

“Have you ever had a pet?”

He was silent for more than a block before murmuring, “Once. His name was Blackie. He was a stray. He didn’t stay ’cause we couldn’t feed him, so he found another little boy to live with. Do you think our mama and daddy found some other little kids to live with?”

J.D. swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Noah.”

“Caleb says our mama didn’t like kids so she wouldn’t live with no other kids. But our daddy loved us. He singed us songs at night.” He hummed a few bars. “Maybe he’s singin’ to some other little boy right now.”

“I don’t think so, Noah. I think your daddy—” Where did he draw the line between reassurance and well-intentioned lies? How much harm could he do if he promised Noah that his daddy was trying to make a home
for him, that he was coming back for him as soon as he could, and it never happened? Who was at fault if he promised Noah that his father hadn’t made a new family or a new life for himself someplace else and in reality he had? “I think your daddy will try very hard to keep the promises he made you.”

“It’s been a long time,” Noah whispered to his reflection in the window. “Sometimes I can’t ’member … Is Caleb going away?”

“No.”

“Maybe he will. First Mama had to go, then Daddy. Maybe Caleb will too, and then Jacob, and then I’ll have to go, and Gracie will be all alone. We’ll all be all alone.”

“No, Noah. You can live the rest of your life in Bethlehem if you want. You won’t ever have to go anywhere.”

The boy didn’t turn to look at him, but instead whispered once more to the window, “We’ll all be all alone.”

J.D. was relieved to see the nursing home ahead. He parked out front, then circled the truck to help Noah and Buddy out. “Buddy comes here every week to visit,” he explained, crouching in front of the boy. “All you have to do is hold his leash and follow him around. If he tries to take something that isn’t his, tell him no, and if someone wants him to sit so they can pet him, say, ‘Sit, Buddy.’ ”

The Lab hastily obeyed.

“Good boy.” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Are you ready?”

Noah wrapped the red leash around his hand. “Are there sick people in there?”

“A few. Mostly they’re just old people.”

“Do they like seeing Buddy?”

“Sure. Don’t you?”

He nodded but didn’t look reassured. “I don’t know no old people.”

“They’re just people, Noah. They’re somebody’s grandmas and grandpas.”

“I don’t got none of them.”

“They’re like Miss Agatha and Miss Corinna.”

A look of relief swept over his features. “Oh. Well, that’s okay.”

They walked up the sidewalk and through the double doors. J.D. checked in at the front desk, then he and Noah took Buddy to the first of the bedridden patients, who always saw the dog ahead of the others. Initially, Noah hung back, his head ducked, his shoulders hunched, his whole body somehow compressed, as if he might render himself invisible. After a time, though, he answered one question, then asked one of his own, then gradually eased right up to the bed. By the time J.D. was paged over the intercom, he felt confident enough to leave Noah in Buddy’s and the patients’ care.

Kelsey was waiting at the front desk, her expression equally perplexed and thoughtful. “When did all this come about?” she asked with an encompassing gesture.

“About eighteen months ago.”

“And you came to town …?”

“About eighteen months ago.” He grinned. “What do you think?”

She looked around the lobby, and so did he. Nothing in the decor suggested
institution
. One wall was painted with a folk art mural of mountains, forest, and towns, and another provided the canvas for a life-size tree whose limbs stretched across the cloud-spotted, blue-sky ceiling. The furniture was upholstered, with plenty of pillows and throws, and the coffee tables, bookcases, and lamps wouldn’t look out of place in anyone’s home. The birds were a little noisy, he admitted, when they all got to chirping at once, but the splash of water in the corner fountain helped mute the racket.

“It beats beige walls and orange plastic chairs,” she remarked. “Though I think I could live without the cats.” She gently nudged one away with her toe, but the cat wasn’t so easily deterred. It chose to wind itself around her other ankle.

Start simply, work your way up, and be persistent. Smart creature.

“Maybe
you
could live without the cats, but some of our residents here couldn’t. Going into a nursing home is hard enough for most folks, but when they have to leave behind the pets who have been the most faithful of their companions, it can break their hearts. Geriatric patients don’t live long with a broken heart.”

“So you have cats and birds and …?”

“There’s a rabbit in the dayroom and aquariums in the sun room, and though we don’t have a resident dog, they get visits four or five times a week from neighborhood dogs.” He gestured toward the main corridor on the other side of the desk, and they started that way. “We also have plants in every room, bird feeders outside the windows, and regular visits from kids’ groups in town, and out back there’s playground equipment and picnic tables.”

“And what’s the payoff for all this?”

“A death rate lower than the statewide average. A lower incidence of infection. A lower hospitalization rate. And we use less medication than most homes this size.”

“Sounds good.”

He screwed up his face as if struck a mortal blow. “Aw, come on, Ms. Malone, surely you can do better than that. How about, ‘Wow, Dr. Grayson, I’m impressed!’?”

“You don’t need me to be impressed. Everyone else fawns all over you.”

“They do? What do they say?”

Shaking her head with good-humored dismay, she stepped inside the dining room. Like the lobby, it was
decorated to look as if it belonged in any home. Well, any home that routinely served sixty meals three times a day. “I
am
impressed, Dr. Grayson.”

“Good.” He grinned again as he indicated the dining room with a sweeping gesture. “And what do you think of the home?”

“I was talking about the home,” she said dryly.

“I could impress you too if you’d give me a chance.”

“And how would you do that?”

“I’m very smart.”

“And very smug.”

“I run fast.”

“Your legs are long.”

“But I’d let you catch me.”

“As if I’d try.” She crossed the hallway to the look into the sun room, then continued down the corridor.

“Everyone adores me.”

“Must be your incredibly modest nature.”

As they reached the end of the hallway, where glass doors led into the backyard, he stepped in front of her to block her way. She drew up short only inches before colliding with him. “I’m a great catch,” he murmured.

She started to take a breath, then apparently thought better of it. He didn’t blame her. Every breath he took was heavy with the fragrance of aftershave and perfume, delicately mixed to create a new scent neither his nor hers but theirs—and thoroughly enticing. “Too bad my motto is No keepers,” she said softly, breathlessly.

“Then maybe …” Though he knew he shouldn’t, he raised his hand, slid a finger underneath a strand of hair that had escaped her braid, and tucked it behind her ear. “Maybe we should work on finding you a new motto.”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Please, J.D.”

“You don’t have to say please.”

“Please don’t—”

“You
really
shouldn’t say don’t.”

Her laughter was wobbly and unsteady as she backed away. “You are—”

He folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching out to her again, then leaned against the wall. “Incredible? Amazing?”

“Insufferable. Impossible. Are you
sure
my office approved you to foster those kids?”

“You’ve got the papers, signed and approved.”

As if the mention of papers jogged her memory, she glanced down at her briefcase, then back at him. “Mrs. Duncan.”

He blinked, shifted mental gears. “Room 7B. Back to the central desk, turn right. I’ll show you.”

“I can find it.”

“Then I’ll follow you.” And enjoy every step of the way, he thought as she retraced their path. Of course, for maximum enjoyment, he wished her long, full dress would be replaced by something shorter, snugger, and a little more revealing. But even with long and full, it was a view to be appreciated.

“Definitely impossible,” she murmured as she passed elderly twin sisters with matching blue hair.

And she sounded as if she meant it.

Chapter Nine