The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

When they arrived at the school, the boy hopped out of the car first, the ID tag on its orange lanyard bouncing against his chest. He himself bounced with energy.

  "You're pretty excited, Zach," Kara observed as she stepped out of the car onto the damp asphalt. "You like school?"

  The boy grinned. "Yeah, I get to go outside here."

  Kara shot Craig a perplexed look. Had this child really been so cooped up that going to school was rewarding for the opportunity to go outside?

  "And I'm the only kid whose parents have never come to the school." He beamed up at them. "But not anymore."

  Kara glanced at Craig, sharing an uncertain look.

  "Take us to the office," Craig directed. The boy stepped ahead to lead them. Craig took Kara's hand as they followed. "This is awkward," he whispered, eyeing several parents with their children moving to and fro in the parking lot. "I feel out of place."

  "Fish out of water?" Kara asked. That was how she felt.

  "More like a giraffe in a fish costume, trying to blend in," Craig remarked.

  Kara nodded. This was other people's turf, not hers and Craig's. A worrisome thought struck her. "Craig, what if we request his family's contact information, but they ask us for his parents' names?"

  Craig gulped. "'Mr. and Mrs. Fleming,' maybe?"

  Kara frowned doubtfully at him.

  "I don't know. Tell them the truth?"

  "That we think he's some unknown relative the police brought by last night and left with us? That he says we're his parents, but we're not?"

  Craig shot her a worried look as they approached the front doors. "They're not going to buy that, are they?"

  "I wouldn't."

  He gulped again.

  They followed the boy inside the building and abruptly found themselves surrounded by students who flowed around them like rapids around rocks and were just as loud. Through another door they escaped into the relative quiet of the office. Three teachers chatted in an adjacent room while a lone secretary worked at the long counter, talking on the phone and helping a girl a couple of years younger than Zach at the same time.

  Another boy, quite blond and about Zach's age, wearing glasses, entered behind them. "Hi, Zach!" he said as he approached the counter and handed a pink paper to the secretary.

  "Guess what, Cayden!" Zach announced with excitement. "These are my parents!"

  Cayden looked up and noticed them for the first time. "Awesome! Can Zach come to my house?" he asked Craig.

  "Er," Craig began.

  Kara spoke up. "Actually, we have a couple of…family issues we need to work out first."

  "That's okay," Cayden returned. "The nannies always tell him no, but I thought since you're his actual mom and dad, maybe you could say yes sometime, if you want to."

  "Yeah, hmm, that's…er, something to think on," Kara replied with an uneasy smile that wrinkled her nose. "We'll talk with Zach about it."

  Cayden left the room satisfied, and Craig sneaked Kara a relieved thumbs-up.

  A few seconds later the secretary, a few years younger than Kara and heavier-set, though it suited her well, completed her call and turned to them. "Good morning, Zach," she greeted the boy. "Who is this with you?"

  Kara saw Craig gear up to speak, but the boy beat him to it. "This is my mom and dad!" he declared happily.

  The secretary stopped dead, her smile morphing into an open-mouthed stare. "Oh, my goodness!" she declared. "It is, isn't it? I mean, obviously—you look just like him. But it can't be! Oh—what a pleasure to meet you!" She reached across the counter to shake both Kara's and Craig's hands vigorously. "I'm Mrs. James. I'm so sorry Mr. Lopez isn't here—he and Mrs. Miloski, the counselor, are at the district office this morning. They would absolutely love to meet you!"

  "Mr. Lopez?" Craig queried weakly, taken aback by her enthusiasm. Kara waved a finger toward an adjacent office marked with the name, "Javier Lopez, Principal." "Oh, right," Craig said simply.

  "So, wow… What can I do for you?" Mrs. James gushed.

  Kara looked over to Craig. He had regained himself and was calculating. It would be awkward, now that the boy had introduced them as his parents, to ask for his real family's contact information. The boy had blown their cover—except that the only cover they'd had was the truth.

  Craig spoke before Kara could think what to say. "We, er, need to check Zach's contact information. We think somebody might be trying to, er, use our identity for some reason. Maybe a relative of ours."

  Mrs. James nodded and pivoted toward her computer terminal. "No problem. You know, my uncle had the same thing happen last year—his ex used his name and stole seven hundred dollars from his bank account…"

  "I doubt he had quite the same thing happen," Craig mumbled in Kara's ear.

  Mrs. James pulled up the boy's information. "Here it is—Zechariah Fleming, fourth grade, parents Craig and Kara Fleming, 6050 Spindler Avenue…"

  Kara's mouth fell open. Mrs. James went on to give their phone numbers and even Craig's email address. She suddenly felt as dazed as she had last night, when Officer Garrenton had pointed to that photo of Craig. A haze of futile denial clouded her thoughts. The school's records listed them as his parents and confirmed that he lived with them. This was simply not possible! The names might belong to some other couple—it could happen… But our address, phone numbers, email? Craig and Kara Fleming, parents of Zechariah Timothy Fleming, the boy who looks like Craig and knew where the bathroom was without looking for it?

  Craig's face mirrored her astonishment. They both turned to the boy, who shrugged as if to say, "What did you expect?"

  "That can't—" Craig began. "Are you sure that's right?"

  Mrs. James repeated the address. "I can change it if it's incorrect."

  "No, that's our address," Craig confirmed. "It's just—oh, brother," he groaned to Kara, "this just got a lot more complicated."

  Mrs. James raised her eyebrows.

  "It has to be a relative," Kara mused darkly; she couldn't think of another explanation; "someone who knows an awful lot about us." Craig nodded, as bewildered as she was.

  The secretary looked on with brows now furrowed.

  "Mrs. James," the boy spoke up, "can I take my mom and dad to meet Ms. Faber?"

  Craig exchanged another nervous glance with Kara.

  "Of course, Zach," Mrs. James encouraged, "she would love that." To Craig and Kara she added, "Will you come back later and meet Mr. Lopez?"

  "It's…always good to meet your child's principal," Craig replied noncommittally.

  Taking that as agreement, Mrs. James smiled and waved goodbye to Zach.

  The boy led Kara and Craig out the door and down the hall, past the first few classrooms and to the right, into an adjoining hall. Kara peeked up at Craig as they followed. "Good job," she whispered. "That was quick and diplomatic."

  He puffed out his cheeks in response. "I thought it was awkward before we came inside. Kara, the school thinks he's our son!"

  "They and the police both," she moaned. "Why is it so hard to just say we're not his parents?" She carefully kept her voice low enough that the boy wouldn't hear.

  A troop of girls rushed by, exchanging greetings with Zach, who ducked into an open doorway to his right a moment later. "Hi, Mrs. Marzo!" he said.

  "Good morning, young Zach," a large, roundish woman inside replied. "Pizza today!" The school kitchen surrounded her, and an appetizing aroma wafted from the room as she moved a large pan of food from one counter to another.

  "She's the cook," he explained to Craig and Kara as they resumed their course through the hall. "And that's Ms. Faulkner, the librarian," he added, pointing to a woman about Kara's age striding ahead of them and in the same direction.

  Two teachers, both men, wished the boy a good morning as he passed them. With a smile and a wave, he greeted them, and Craig nodded to them. Kara distinctly heard their conversation falter as she and Craig
trailed the boy, and thought she felt their eyes following them.

  The young crowd around them thinned as they made their way further down the hall. The boy peeked inside a custodian's closet standing open. "Mr. Newstone?" he asked.

  "Nope, just me, Zach," a voice answered. A man in his early twenties, with strawberry-blond hair and goatee and green eyes, emerged from the closet, holding a push broom. He noticed Craig and Kara and took a step back, startled. Regaining himself, he offered them his hand. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting tall people. Eddie, night custodian."

  "Not today, though," the boy announced. "Sometimes he works in the morning."

  "Mr. Newstone's the day guy," Eddie explained. "He's out of town." With his free hand, he pushed the boy's head away playfully. "This little tyke here likes to pester the custodians."

  "I'm not a little tyke!" the boy protested. "I'm ten!"

  "Ten's pretty little to me," Eddie teased. "But that's okay. You're big enough to work. Take this broom and go sweep the cafeteria."

  "No way!" the boy laughed. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Maybe if you do my homework for me."

  "No deal," Eddie returned. "I'll stick with the easy stuff."

  The school bell rang, and the boy jumped. "Bye, Mr. Eddie!" he called, waving as he rushed down the hall, beckoning Kara and Craig to follow.

  "You have a good son there," Eddie whispered, leaning toward Craig and watching the boy depart. Then he reddened. "Sorry—I assume you're his parents." He blushed even more and looked sheepishly up at Craig. "A dumb thing to say, huh? I mean, there's really no question. He looks just like you."

  Craig and Eddie both seemed trapped in the awkward moment until Kara broke in. "You're right, he's a great kid. Nice to meet you, Eddie." She smiled politely, and she and Craig slipped away after the boy.

  He was waiting for them at his classroom. "I feel like we're at a family reunion," Craig whispered to Kara. "If we stay much longer, Zach might introduce us to the whole school."

  "For him, these people are his family," Kara observed.

  The boy led them in to his teacher, a tall woman with graying hair and beauty wrinkles around her eyes. She was leaning over a girl's desk, talking her through an assignment.

  The boy rushed up to her. "Ms. Faber, meet my mom and dad!"

  "Zach, it's not polite to interru—" Looking up at them suddenly, she forgot the girl and rushed over to them with open arms. "You cannot be Zach's parents!" she welcomed them.

  That's certainly true, Kara said to herself.

  "Please, come in!" the teacher went on. "I'm Ms. Faber."

  "Craig Fleming," Craig introduced himself, "and my wife, Kara."

  "Oh my, you really do exist!" the teacher exclaimed. As she spoke, a girl seated almost directly behind Ms. Faber poked the boy beside her with a pencil. "Mika, put the pencil down!" Ms. Faber ordered. Mika, startled that she had been spotted behind the teacher's back, obeyed instantly.

  Ms. Faber turned her attention back to Kara, Craig, and Zach. "Zach has mentioned you to us, but unless I'm mistaken, I'm the first of his teachers to ever get to speak with you in person! Or maybe at all…" She paused, anticipating a reply.

  "It's, er, good to be here," Craig returned uncomfortably.

  Kara couldn't find any words. Police officers and school teachers thought she was this boy's mother… The school's records confirmed it…

  "Is this what you've been so excited about, Zach?" Ms. Faber asked the boy.

  He nodded earnestly.

  "He's been so distracted these past few days," Ms. Faber told Craig and Kara, "but he wouldn't say why. Now, Zach, it all makes sense."

  The boy beamed with satisfaction.

  "We're just getting started," Ms. Faber said, waving a hand toward the class. "The students are working on their opening assignment, so I have a few minutes free. Can we talk?"

  "Well, I think—" Kara began.

  "Can I show them my desk?" the boy interrupted.

  "If you like," Ms. Faber answered.

  The boy began to lead them toward it, but Kara hung back. "I think I will talk with Ms. Faber for just a minute, Zach," she decided. Craig gave her a supportive nod and trailed behind the boy to the far side of the room.

  "Thanks for coming in," Ms. Faber said quietly to Kara. Her eyes followed the boy. "Zach is a fine student. But we've always been concerned about his home life, ever since he started kindergarten." She waited patiently for Kara to speak.

  "Truth be told," Kara replied, "Craig and I are concerned about that, too. I guess you know we've been rather"—she searched for a diplomatic word, truthful but revealing nothing—"disconnected…"

  "Of course," the teacher nodded. "His grandparents. And the nannies. I understand his grandmother passed away some time ago. Ever since he started school, he's had this dream of being with the two of you again. We thought it was just a sign of trouble at home, wanting to be away from his grandfather—but," she indicated Kara with both hands, "here you are!"

  "Yes," Kara smiled nervously, "here we are."

  "Some children's parents aren't able to raise them at first; some never can. We've always wondered about Zach's situation." Ms. Faber looked hopefully to Kara for an answer.

  Kara bit her lower lip. "I'm afraid I can't say much about that—there could be, er, legal implications. But Craig and I are starting to ask questions about his upbringing, too. Something has been going on that we weren't aware of, and we're worried about him. That's why we're here. Maybe you've noticed something? Something unusual?" There. Perhaps that would draw out information that could help pin down who his parents might be and how he had come to her and Craig—if Ms. Faber knew anything.

  The teacher eyed her curiously and beckoned Kara to her desk in one corner of the room. They each drew up a chair in relative privacy from the ears of the students. Kara glanced over at Craig, who was receiving a tour of the classroom and seemed to be enjoying brief exchanges with the boy and his classmates.

  Ms. Faber lowered her voice. "Something has been going on. I don't know what. His grades are okay, but not for him. They would be better if he turned his homework in consistently. And," she whispered, "that's what got me worried. He always did his homework until January."

  "What happened in January?" Kara asked.

  Ms. Faber thought for a moment, hands in her lap. "Zach's previous teachers told me they've seen this before—sudden changes in his behavior maybe once, twice a year, ever since kindergarten. He will turn moody and stay that way for weeks, or he will suddenly break out of it and be his lighthearted self again for a while."

  Kara folded her hands, interlacing her fingers. "Hmm."

  Ms. Faber cocked her head. "Surely his nannies have mentioned this to you."

  Kara felt trapped for a moment. "We've…really not had good communication with the nannies, or with his grandparents." Yes—nothing untrue there, but sufficiently vague. "So, since January…"

  "He's been more down than usual—not everyday, but often enough. He forgets his homework, he interacts less with his friends…" She shook her head. "He's such a sociable child by nature that it's been obvious something was wrong."

  Her eyes pleaded with Kara for an explanation, but Kara could only offer a sad frown in return. "Did he ever talk about his grandfather?"

  "He mentioned that he had passed away."

  "Yes," Kara confirmed, "that's our understanding." What had the boy told her about him? "His grandfather was often out of the country—that didn't help with communication any." Another vague, elusive truth.

  "I see. I'm so sorry for your loss." Ms. Faber thought back. "Zach told me about his passing a month ago. He didn't seem disturbed by it at the time, but I thought afterward that it must have been his grandfather's declining health that was bothering him."

  She leaned forward in her chair. "And then his mood improved abruptly just this week. He was one child on Friday when he went h
ome, and a totally different child when he arrived back at school on Monday. And he's been more distracted everyday." She looked directly at Kara, meeting her eyes. "Especially yesterday."

  Now they were coming to useful information, Kara hoped. "Because he knew he was going to his parents?"

  "That must be it. He was off in another world all day. He forgot his jacket at home, and I could hardly get him to focus on his assignments. He couldn't wait to leave school. And that's strange, too. He never wants to leave. Sometimes we have to tell him two or three times to go catch his ride. But not yesterday—yesterday he left so quickly he forgot his backpack." She pointed across the room to his desk, where a dark green backpack was strapped over the back of his chair. "Of course, since he forgot his backpack, I assume he also did not do his homework."

  "No, he didn't," Kara affirmed. If she knew nothing else about the boy, she knew that. "Have his parents—I mean, have we never…" She stopped and took a deep breath; she didn't like playing the role of mom to some other woman's child. "He never explained why we haven't visited the school before?"

  "Never." Ms. Faber gave her an odd look. "I don't mean any offense, Mrs. Fleming, but now that you're here, I have so many questions. Ever since Zach was in kindergarten, the school has tried to make direct contact with you and your husband, but we could never reach anyone. And he needed so much special attention at the beginning."

  Kara rubbed a hand across her forehead as if to ease a sudden headache. "What kind of special attention?"

  The teacher shifted her weight, thinking back. "I remember Zach when he first came to kindergarten. He didn't know how to act. He did well with the women teachers, but around the men he was…awkward, even scared. And around the other children—well, he didn't know how to relate to them at first. He loved to learn—he was clearly intelligent—but it took a while for him to develop the social skills that most five-year-olds have well in hand by the time they come here. So we tried to call you, but all we got was voicemail. Mr. Lopez sent letters, but no one answered. The school counselor even tried to go to your home once that first year and speak with you, only to find that you had recently moved."

  Ms. Faber watched the boy for a moment before turning back to Kara. "So if you'll forgive me, I've always wondered what his story is."

  Kara searched for an explanation that might satisfy Ms. Faber. "I think it's fair to say we haven't known Zach nearly as well as a boy's parents should." She grimaced; acting the part of a concerned but distant mother was coming to her disturbingly easily. It made her all the more uneasy. "I wish I could tell you the whole story," she managed, "but the legal issues—I just can't right now. And there's still so much that Craig and I ourselves haven't made sense of yet. But it sounds like Zach has come a long way."

  Craig and the boy, having slowly circled the room, now approached Ms. Faber's desk.

  The teacher stood up. She clearly was not content with what she had heard from Kara, but she offered a gracious smile, all the same. "I understand, Mrs. Fleming. And I am grateful that you stopped in. Please come by again soon. It's so good to finally meet you."

  Kara shook Ms. Faber's hand in farewell. Then, instinctively, she put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

  He flinched, but smiled up at her. "See you later, Mom."

  "Have a good day, Zach," Craig said. He seemed to want to say more, but thought better of it.

  "Don't get your fins too wet if it rains during recess," Kara told him. "Remember, you're only part fish."

  He returned her grin, then hurried to his seat. Craig and Kara left the room and made for the nearest exit.

  "Did you find out anything useful?" Craig asked Kara as they reached the parking lot.

  "A little," she said. "Basically what he's already told us—he lived with his grandfather, but nannies took care of him." She filled him in on what Ms. Faber had shared with her.

  They arrived at the car. "How about you?" Kara inquired. "Did you learn anything?"

  "Well, he's friendly. He introduced me to the whole class." Craig cocked his head a little to the side and furrowed his brows. "What's the matter? You look upset."

  She was, she realized. An unsettling thought had just occurred to her. "Craig…if we had a child, and he didn't come home on a school night, and we searched all night and couldn't find him—obviously, we would call the police. But then, where would we look the next morning?"

  Craig's expression darkened.

  "Nobody was here looking for him! No one had even called the school to tell them he hadn't come home last night! There was no police officer here. No one was here waiting desperately for him to show up. No one…" Her tongue tangled around the last words. She slammed a fist weakly on top of her car.

  Craig stepped beside her and took her in his arms. He held her close; her head fell onto his shoulder.

  One angry tear dropped from her eyes. "I know he's not ours, but whoever he belongs to sent him away and doesn't want him to come home." She sniffed once and closed her eyes to cut off anymore tears.

  "Which could mean," Craig spoke softly into her ear, "he was telling the truth—he really can't go back home, even if he knew how to get there."

  This realization launched a new, bitter churning in Kara's belly. When so many women like her could never bear a child, how could anyone send such a beautiful young boy away? How could anyone be so calloused, so cruel?

  There in the parking lot, Craig held her in silence for a long time.

  *****