Father to Be (28 page)

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.

K
elsey 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.”

Chapter Eleven
 

K
elsey closed the bedroom door, then went looking for J.D. She found him in the kitchen, staring out the window over the sink with a can of soda clutched in one hand.

She’d been both looking forward to and dreading seeing him since Saturday night’s kiss. It had been so inappropriate … and so sweet. On Sunday she’d run a route where she’d never caught even a glimpse of him, had avoided any thought of attending church, and turned down an invitation from Miss Agatha for dinner. When restlessness had driven her to her car that afternoon, she’d deliberately headed in the opposite direction from his house.

Now she was here. On business. That was all that should be between them, all that she could allow between them.

But knowing that didn’t stop her from wanting more. “What happens now?” he asked without turning.

“Nothing,” she replied, but he continued talking as if he didn’t hear.

“You want to put him in a home where he can be more closely supervised? Because you won’t get any argu—” He turned. “Nothing?”

“Well, actually, I thought I would recommend to Reverend and Mrs. Howard that they seek counseling for their son.”

His expression was blank. “Counseling? For Kenny?”

“Apparently he’s quite a problem.”

“And you made that determination after fifteen minutes with Caleb?”

“No, actually I got it from you.” At his puzzled look, she explained. “In my office, my first day on the job. I was looking for a placement for the kids and the Howards were on my list. You said you wouldn’t recommend them because their son was ‘the bad seed.’ ”

“So you believe this was all Kenny’s fault.”

“No, but I believe Kenny was the instigator. Frankly I think Caleb showed great restraint in stopping with a bloody nose and a black eye.”

“He didn’t stop. He was
stopped.
There’s a difference.”

“The point is Caleb had a problem, and he dealt with it. I wish you would do the same.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She pushed her hands into the deep pockets of her dress, then curled her fingers tightly as she approached him. “Did you ask him even once if he was all right?”

J.D.’s face flushed crimson. “I tried to examine him. He wouldn’t let me.”

“When? At the church, in front of the others? Or in the truck or here at the house, where no one would see?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Did you show any concern at all for him when you got
to the church? Or did you walk in and go straight to the other boy to examine
his
injuries?”

His voice was stiff, his tone icy, when he answered. “All Caleb had was a split lip.”

“And all Kenny had was a bloody nose and a black eye. A bit more dramatic, perhaps, but no more serious and no more painful than a split lip.” She sighed softly. “Did you even speak to him there? Did you ask, ‘Caleb, are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened?’ Or did you ignore him until you were sure the other kid was fine, then snap your fingers as if he were a servant and command him to leave with you?”

The color along J.D.’s cheeks heightened. He set the soda in the sink, then leaned against the counter, gripping the rounded edge with both hands. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I handled it all wrong. I’m a lousy parent. So place him with someone else.”

“I’m not going to remove him from your care. I just think—” Breaking off, she studied him.
So place him with someone else.
That hadn’t been offered as a flippant challenge, not with that uncharacteristically grim look in his eyes. It had been a request. A demand.

She took a breath to steady her voice, but it didn’t work. “You want me to remove him from your care.”

He shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at her. He didn’t like what he was saying—she knew him well enough to realize that—but he was saying it anyway. “I think it would be best. He’s not doing well here with me.”