"How do you feel about wearing a girl's shirt?" Kara inquired of the boy a few minutes later.
He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her shuffle through a stack of T-shirts in a drawer. She peeked over her shoulder at him, and he lifted his eyebrows uncertainly. "Is it pink?"
"If you like," she replied, amused. "I'm sure I have a pink one in here somewhere. Or I have blue, if you'd rather."
"Not pink," he said. "Blue's okay."
She tossed him a blue shirt and gray shorts. "There you go, then. They'll be big on you, but they'll fit better than Craig's. I'll get your clothes dried out and you can have them back in the morning."
The boy nodded, but didn't move. Strange—he just watched her…
"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Right—I'll just…go get the guestroom ready."
Then the boy moved, pulling his shoes off as Kara closed the door behind her. She stepped into the next room and chuckled. Kids. She really needed to spend more time with her nieces and nephew.
She looked around the room and groaned. "Craig, where are we going to put all of this stuff?" The guest bed was covered with landscaping tools and, she confessed to herself, a few of her own gardening supplies. There were tools spread across the floor, too. "I thought I was supposed to be the messy one."
He replied from the den. "Hold on, I'm coming." A moment later he was there with her, surveying the challenge before them. "I was checking the Amber Alerts web site, just in case."
"Nothing there?"
"No qualifying children missing in the state of Washington," he said, scanning the room. "Wow, we picked up a lot of stuff at that sale."
"You picked up. That was in February, Craig. It's been our live-in guest for three months. It's time for it to move out and get its own place."
"I've been meaning to sort through it. I guess now's as good a time as any."
"No, don't sort. Just relocate."
"Right. I'll put it in the shed."
"He's only ten—we should get him to bed before it gets much later." She rubbed a finger across a clear spot on the comforter and shook her head. "This is filthy, with all these tools on it. I'm going to pull the good quilt out for Zach." She headed to the cabinets in the hall as Craig began to gather up a load of the various items before him.
The boy, now clad in Kara's clothes, emerged from their bedroom after the first load and saw Craig picking up more tools. "Can I help?"
"Sure," Craig replied. "Grab whatever's on the bed and follow me."
Kara reached for the quilt on the top cabinet shelf as Craig and the boy slipped past her, arms full of saws and hand shovels. The boy had seemed relieved—but not surprised, exactly—when they had told him he could stay for the night. Kara had thought he might argue to stay longer, but he hadn't; in fact, he had offered to sleep on the floor, he wouldn't mind at all. They had assured him that he was welcome to their guest bed, once they unearthed it from all of Craig's treasures. Then he had offered to do the dishes or whatever they needed. He was eager to please, that was certain.
She was gathering clean sheets to go with the new comforter as the pair marched back into the guestroom for another load. "Craig, just set my garden tools out by the back—"
"OW!" Zach yelled.
Kara was in the room in an instant. "What happened?"
"He's okay." Craig was beside the boy before she was. The boy was bent over his clenched right hand, his face screwed up and eyes shut tightly. "He sliced his hand trying to pick up that saw. Never pick it up by the blade, pal."
"Like you didn't do the same thing just last week," she reminded Craig, who smiled abashedly. "Let me take a look, Zach."
Kara took the injured hand and tenderly pried the boy's fingers open. He winced at her touch. Blood smeared his palm and fingers. "Okay, let's go wash it off and see how bad it is."
She led the boy to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. "Here, put your hand in the water. It'll sting at first, and then the cold will take away some of the pain."
Hesitantly, with a glance up at her through eyes that were suddenly red, he placed his hand into the water, squeezing his eyes shut as it struck the wound and washed the blood away.
After a moment, Kara took his hand again and gently examined it. "Well, I don't think you'll die from it," she said.
"I'm glad," the boy answered through gritted teeth. "I like knowing I'm not dead yet."
Kara met his eyes in surprise. In spite of his pain, they teased back at her. She couldn't help but grin and tousle his hair.
He snuck a peek at his wound, where the cut crossed his middle three fingers on the palm side.
"Have you had your tetanus shots?" Craig asked from behind them.
"What are those?" Zach asked.
"Tetanus is a disease you can get from cutting yourself on metal. The shots give you a vaccine to stop it."
The boy looked anxiously from one adult to the other. "I don't know."
Kara drew a box of bandages from the cabinet. "You look pretty well-cared for to me. I bet you've had them. Nothing to worry about."
The boy patted his hand dry on a towel and opened and closed his fist a couple of times.
"Better?" Kara asked.
"Yeah. It still hurts, though."
"Okay. Let's get these bandages on there, one for each finger…" She situated the bandages over the wounds and the boy flexed his hand.
"It's better," he said.
"That-a-boy. Why don't you go help Craig again?"
He left the bathroom and Kara wiped up a couple of spots of red that had fallen onto the countertop. She gazed out the door after him, suddenly struck by the moment. Parent for a night, by some weird twist of fate. I used to pray for a child to care for. If this boy needs to be here tonight for some reason, then I'm glad to stand in for his mother, bloody fingers and all. But I think I just did pretty well—so if I can do the job, God, why didn't you let us…?
It was a futile line of thought, and selfish. A lot of people's dreams get passed by in life. And I have plenty of other things to be thankful for. That was a more virtuous thought. Still, the wrapping of those tender, young fingers left an ache.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 11