The rain that evening was spotty—a light drizzle for a few minutes followed by a single minute's hard downpour and then a wet mist, if that, until the drizzle returned. Typical Seattle weather in the springtime, Kara thought as she dished out a bowlful of food for Paws on the patio. The sunlight seeping through the clouds was just beginning to fade.
After Craig had left for his Little League game, she had considered pulling weeds in the flower beds until dusk; but the soil was too muddy tonight. So instead she collected the half-dozen containers of miniature roses she had purchased from Grover a couple of weeks ago and left to grow on the patio. Small as they were, it was time for them to be repotted into larger containers. A few more weeks with a little more space for their roots to spread and they would be perfect, ready to give away.
She brought the roses inside and set them on the table, then braved the rain outside to collect the empty pots she needed and half a bag of potting soil from the shed. She had expected Craig to be home by now, considering all this precipitation, but the rain could be inconsistent like this some days—drenching you here, but dropping little or nothing just a couple of miles away.
Inside, she set her load next to the flowers on the table, careful not to soil Craig's letter. He had left it lying open there when he had departed for the game; after talking with Derek, he had handled it almost reverently. Unfortunately, it didn't say exactly when the ball club would call; Craig would hardly be able to focus on anything else until he heard from them. Kara moved the letter gingerly into the den and set it atop Craig's latest novel on the couch.
What a memory that's going to be, she thought, imagining the two guys' excitement when August 12 arrived.
The doorbell rang. Kara circled the long wall that separated the den from the front entryway and hall. She peeked out the entryway window as she reached for the doorknob. A police officer stood on the doorstep, hat and jacket glistening from the rain, black hair spilling neatly to her shoulders. She was not a large woman, but sturdy, her brown face no-nonsense without lacking compassion.
At her side stood a boy nearly as tall as the officer's shoulders, nervously biting his lower lip. His plain, orange T-shirt was soaked through at the top and down to his chest. Rain dripped from his disheveled hair and striped his cheeks.
Kara opened the door.
The boy looked up with wide, earnest eyes as she came into view. "Hi, Mom!" he said.
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 9