The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

That day was the most amazing day Zach could remember. First, of course, he had a mom and a dad! Even if they didn't believe it, it was still the greatest thing in the world to him. He looked like them, his dad's side of the family at least, and now he knew he got his being left-handed from his mom.

  Then his dad had taken him and Paws to a baseball field to work and play catch. That was a lot of fun, even the working part, because he was working with his dad—though, he admitted to himself, getting hit in the head with a baseball was painful. But playing dead had been funny.

  After they had come home for lunch, his mom had invited him to help her work in the garden, and they had pulled weeds for a while. He couldn't remember another day in his life that he had spent almost entirely outside. It was awesome. Even when he had accidentally pulled up two of Mom's bean sprouts, mistaking them for weeds, it had been okay; she hadn't yelled like Grandfather used to. She had just talked to him and explained how to tell the difference between them and the real weeds. She was like his teachers that way.

  Dinner was great—Mom was a good cook—and then after dinner, Dad had asked if Zach wanted to watch the Mariners game with him…on TV! It had been even better than hearing their games on the radio. Dad had let him stay up and watch the entire game, since it was his first one. Even the commercials had been interesting. The game had gone into extra innings, though, and Zach couldn't remember anything after the top of the tenth. He had awakened the next morning, Sunday, to find himself wrapped in a pair of thick blankets on the couch in the den. Mom, rousing him, had explained with a grin that she had tried to get him up after the game to take him to the guestroom, but he had been too deeply asleep.

  They had eaten and prepared to go to church. For Zach, that had meant exchanging his own orange T-shirt for a nicer, dark-reddish one from Mom; his own shirt was dirt-stained from helping both Dad and Mom the day before. His jeans had been a problem, too—they were even dirtier than his shirt. But Mom hadn't had anything longer than shorts that would fit him, and she had figured that while her shorts were fine on him in the house, they would not look right on him out in public. So she had made him hide in his room, in his underwear, while she scrubbed his jeans with a wet cloth in the laundry room to wipe away some of the dirt. After the scrubbing, his jeans still had dirty spots. Dad had said he looked a bit ragged; Mom had said it was the best they could do.

  Now they were arriving at the church, and Zach peered out the window of Mom's car into the sunshine to see the building as they parked. It was big, and the lot was already filling up. People filtered between the cars on their way inside. Dad, Mom, and Zach joined them.

  "Hey, Zach," Dad said in a low voice, "I need you to do something for us."

  Zach looked up at him.

  "Don't tell anyone you think we're your parents, all right?"

  Zach opened his mouth to dispute the point, but thought better of it. They were his parents, whatever they thought. He closed his mouth and nodded.

  Dad spoke again. "We'll introduce you as my cousin's son, because we're pretty sure you are."

  Zach just sighed. Grandmother had said his father's name was Craig, not Elliott. He didn't remember much that she had told him—he had been so young—but he remembered that.

  They entered the building. People were milling about, some talking, others moving to and fro. A little girl who might have been old enough for kindergarten spotted them and ran up to Mom. "Aunt Kara!" she yelled happily as she wrapped her arms around Mom's legs.

  Mom scooped her up and held her in both arms. "Good morning." Noticing Zach watching, she turned the girl toward him and said, "Jayda, this is Zach. He's staying at our house for a few days."

  Jayda was too shy to say hello, but Zach smiled and waved to her.

  "Zach," Mom continued, "Jayda is my niece—my brother Ben's daughter. Remember her from the pictures?"

  "Oh, yeah—she was smaller then," Zach said. It suddenly struck him—this was his cousin! Mom and Dad might not believe it, but he still knew. He had a family—a mom, a dad, even a cousin! And if he remembered correctly, Jayda should have three more sisters. No brothers, though; that was too bad. Still, girl cousins were better than no cousins. And their parents should be here somewhere, too—Lia, his aunt, and Ben, the preacher, his uncle. This could turn out to be an even better day than yesterday. So far, every day since he had found his parents had been better than the day before, each one the best day of his life so far.

  Lia—Zach spotted her across the room—approached with her other three girls, two of them teenagers and the third about Zach's age. Like Jayda, each of them shared Lia's narrow, Asian eyes and dark hair; all except the third shared her tall, slender build. The third was less slender and a little shorter for her age.

  Lia greeted Mom and Dad, then took a look at Zach and smiled. "This is obviously one of your relatives, Craig. I didn't know you were having family over this weekend."

  "Neither did we, until Thursday night," Mom replied. "This is Zach. He's Craig's…cousin's son…we think… It's a long story."

  Lia lifted one eyebrow. "Zach…Fleming?"

  Mom nodded with a slight frown.

  "Sounds like an interesting story. Welcome, Zach. I'm Lia, Kara's sister-in-law."

  "I know," Zach replied. "I saw you in the pictures."

  "We showed him our family photos the other night," Mom explained.

  "Well then," Lia said, "you probably already recognize my daughters. You've met Jayda. This is Jasmine"—she indicated the oldest—"and Brooke"—the other teenager—"and Marissa," she concluded, placing a hand on the girl about Zach's age.

  "Hi," Jasmine and Brooke said together.

  "I don't like boys," Marissa declared, glaring at Zach through narrowed eyes.

  "That's not nice, Marissa," Brooke scolded her. "It's not his fault he's a boy."

  "He still is, though," she countered.

  "Actually, Marissa," Lia stepped in, "I was hoping you'd take Zach to his Sunday School class. He looks like he's about your age. I'm guessing fourth grade?"

  Zach nodded.

  Marissa gave him a superior look. "I'm in fifth grade."

  Lia looked sternly to her daughter. "In that case, Marissa, I expect you, being older, to model a gracious attitude." She turned back to Zach. "You and Marissa will be in the same class. If you want to go to Sunday School, that is."

  Zach looked up at Mom. "Can I, Mom?" As soon as he said it, he turned red—he hadn't meant to mess up so soon.

  Lia gave Mom an odd look. "Mom for the weekend," Mom explained with a shrug. "Sure, go ahead," she told Zach.

  "Come on," Marissa commanded. She took his arm and led him away. He rolled his eyes at being pulled by a girl, but she ignored his expression and tugged him into a wide hallway and out of sight of his parents.

  "You know why I don't like boys?" She didn't wait for him to reply. "Because they're mean, and disgusting, and dirty"—she glanced at his jeans—"and they talk too much, and—"

  "We're cousins!" Zach blurted out. He realized he shouldn't have told her that, but it was too late. Not that she cared, anyway, as it turned out.

  "No, we're not. You're from Uncle Craig's family, I'm from Aunt Kara's family. That means you and I are not actually related. Which is good, because there are too many boys in my life already."

  They arrived at their classroom. Besides himself and Marissa, twelve children packed the small room, nine of them boys—much to Marissa's chagrin. She and the other girls huddled together on one side of the room for protection.

  The class was fun. The teacher, an older woman with white hair tied up in a bun, told them a Bible story, and they played a game, and then their time was up. Marissa, in a good mood now despite having spent an hour among so many boys, grabbed Zach by the arm again and escorted him to the auditorium, where she located his mom sitting on a pew beside her own mother.

  "There has to be some kind of probl
em in his family," Mom was telling Lia. "They sent him to us with no warning and without any hint how long he'll be with us."

  "So you're a fill-in mom for a while," Lia responded.

  "I guess so. Hopefully, we'll be able to get in touch with them tomorrow. But in the meantime, I need some advice. I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

  "Actually, it looks like you're doing rather well," Lia said, assessing Zach as he and Marissa came up beside them, "considering that you weren't expecting him. Kids have always come naturally to you, Kara. Don't worry. Just take care of the basics—make sure he eats and sleeps, and brushes his teeth. And takes a bath. Clean clothes—"

  "Yeah, we're working on that," Mom said with a wry grin. "I didn't think of him needing clothes for church until this morning. The only clothes he brought were the ones he was wearing. That includes just one pair of underwear… I hadn't thought to have him brush his teeth, either, or take a bath."

  Zach raised his eyebrows doubtfully at that last part. He spoke up before they could say any more about baths. "Hey, Mom, did you know Jesus could walk on water?"

  Mom chuckled. "Could he, now?"

  "You did know," Zach stated flatly, his eyes narrowed.

  Mom just laughed.

  "Anyway, I think the teacher doesn't know very much about Jesus, because I asked her why he rode in boats when he could have just walked on the water, and she didn't know."

  "Hmm, that would be a good question for Ben," Mom advised. She glanced at Lia, who grinned. "He ought to have an answer for that, being a preacher."

  Satisfied for now, Zach sat down beside Mom. Dad joined them a moment later and teased Marissa about boys until worship began.

  Zach enjoyed the church's singing, but found it surprisingly difficult to sit still with his head bowed and eyes closed during the prayers. He paid close attention, though, when his Uncle Ben stood up to preach. He had seen Ben from a distance earlier, but this was the first time he had heard him speak. Ben taught about a sheep that got lost and how the shepherd left all the other sheep so he could search for the lost one. From what Zach could gather, this story meant that everyone should go find people who got lost. That made sense, of course—no one wanted to stay lost.

  When the worship assembly was done, Lia and Marissa said goodbye and Zach's parents chatted with friends, introducing Zach as Craig's cousin's son several times. One conversation at a time, they wound their way toward the exit.

  At the door, they found Ben, who had just greeted one last church member. Seeing Dad, he pointed a thumb toward the parking lot, which had cleared out considerably. "Want your tools back?"

  "Sure," Dad answered. "Come on, Zach. You can give us a hand."

  "Do you know a lot about Jesus?" Zach blurted out to Ben.

  He smiled. "Some. Why?"

  "Because I don't think my teacher knew much about him," Zach replied. "I asked her why Jesus always rode around in boats when he could just walk on the water, and she didn't know."

  "Hmm," Uncle Ben said thoughtfully, "that's a tough one. I've never thought about that before." He rubbed his chin, pondering, as they walked out to his car. "Maybe so his legs wouldn't get tired. It would be a long walk, all the way across the Sea of Galilee."

  Dad grinned, but Zach tipped his head, considering. That made some sense. "But he made it so Peter could walk on the water, too, right?"

  "Yes," Ben replied, "one time."

  "Why didn't he ever make it so his followers could all walk on the water—you know, for short trips?"

  Ben shook his head and chuckled. "I have no idea. Have you ever considered a career in ministry? You have great questions—might make a good preacher."

  Zach wasn't sure what Ben meant by that, but since Ben was a preacher himself, he figured it was a compliment. He liked Ben—he was gentle like Mom, though he seemed rather different from her besides that. I have an uncle.

  They moved Dad's tools from Ben's car to Mom's, and then Mom, Dad, and Zach piled into Mom's car for the drive home.

  After lunch, the adventures continued. "I need to run to the store," Mom announced. Zach and Dad both looked up from the books they were reading—Dad, on the couch, had a novel, and Zach, in an armchair, was looking through a picture book of Seattle, something he had pulled off the bookshelf at random. "Will you two guys be okay without me?"

  Zach wondered—the rules were different here. There were rules, but they didn't always include staying home. He could ask…but he didn't want to make his parents angry. Especially not Dad.

  He gathered up his courage. "Mom?"

  "Hmm?" she responded as she scanned the contents of the refrigerator. Turning to the counter, she jotted something down on a slip of paper, then looked up at Zach.

  "Could I…?" He hesitated.

  "Do you want to come with me, Zach?" she asked curiously. He nodded, rather more eagerly than he had intended, and she wrinkled her eyebrows. "Sure, if you like…"

  "Really?" He was suddenly aware that Dad was watching him, too.

  "Have you ever been to the store before?" Dad asked.

  Zach shook his head. Mom and Dad stared at each other for a moment, and for some reason they both looked concerned. "Is that okay?" he asked.

  "Zach," Mom replied, "we're confused about why you've been so…sheltered. Before you came here, had you ever been anywhere besides home and school?"

  "And I think you said church a couple of times," Dad added.

  "Not much," Zach answered. "The doctor, when I was little. And I get to go on field trips with my class. One time we went to the Children's Museum."

  "But your grandfather and grandmother—they never took you anywhere?"

  "No."

  "Do you know why they didn't take you places, Zach?" Mom asked.

  He shook his head slowly, trying to recall whether he had ever heard Grandfather talk about it. "No," he said at last. "My friends at school all got to go places, but…that's just how it always was."

  Dad set his novel on the couch, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "You're quite a mystery, Zach."

  Zach didn't respond. He wasn't sure how he felt about being a mystery.

  Gentle hands gripped his shoulders. His first impulse was to pull away, but instead he looked up and saw Mom smiling down at him—sadly, it seemed. The hands were hers, so he let them stay.

  She quickly masked her sadness with a playful grin. "Come on, Zach. You can choose your own toothbrush. I don't think I'll buy you any underwear, though. We'll let your real parents take care of that."

  Off they went then, the two of them, and from the moment they stepped into the store Zach had no doubt that this was definitely the new best day of his life. He had never seen so much food in one place, not even in the school lunch room. Fresh breads, cookies, and muffins welcomed them with warm aromas as he and Mom stepped inside through sliding doors that somehow opened by themselves. It was marvelous.

  Mom selected a shopping cart and steered it in front of him. "Here, Zach. You can drive."

  "Drive?" he repeated, taking the handle. The thing didn't have a steering wheel.

  "Well, push, anyway," she laughed. "Follow me."

  They passed through the bread section and into the meat department, where one entire wall was packed with shelves of all kinds of raw meat. He found beef, chicken, turkey, fish, and even—"Is this squid?" He picked up a package and showed Mom. The creatures inside were slimy and certainly looked like squid, just as the label claimed. Short arms stretched out behind their slimy bodies; creepy black eyes stared up at him.

  Mom wrinkled her nose and returned to her perusal of the ground beef. "Yep, they sell squid here."

  "Can we buy some?" he asked hopefully. "I've never had it before."

  "Me, neither," she replied, "and I'd rather keep it that way, if it's all the same to you."

  "Oh." He set the squid back in its place, crestfallen.

  Mom set t
wo packages of ground beef in the cart. "Tell you what, though, Zach. If all goes well, we should be able to find out who your real parents are tomorrow. But since it looks like you're with us for one more night, you can help me decide what we'll have for dinner. What's your favorite food?"

  That was an easy decision. "Tacos!"

  "Hard shell or soft?"

  "Soft."

  "We can do that," she said. "I've already picked up some beef, so we'll need—let's see…tortillas…"

  "And cheese."

  "We have cheese at home."

  "Tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream."

  "Onions?"

  "Definitely not."

  "Got it," Mom said. She was smiling—she was having a good time with him.

  She likes me, Zach thought. But if she liked him, why did she keep trying to find another home for him?

  She set off at a steady pace, taking him down one aisle after another, each one packed with foods of a new sort, many of which were unfamiliar to him. He didn't ask for anything else after the squid; he didn't want to upset Mom. But he watched and learned. He noticed how she checked prices on little tags set beneath each item and how she compared products of different sizes. When they came to a section packed with an amazing assortment of fruits and vegetables, several of which he did not recognize, he watched her compare tomatoes and choose the best ones. She did the same with the lettuce.

  On an aisle that smelled strongly of soap, they located the toothbrushes. Mom assessed their options. "Pick out one that's two dollars or less," she instructed. "When we find your home, you can take it with you."

  After a moment's consideration, he slid a green one off its peg and set it in the cart.

  Mom picked it up and handed it back to him. "Not the green," she said. "The pink is much better." But she was teasing—her eyes laughed at him.

  They went on to collect all their taco ingredients, and also eggs, milk, and a case of pop for Dad to drink at work. The cart grew heavier, but he maneuvered it without any trouble until they eventually returned to the front of the store, paid for their groceries, and carried their bags out to the car.

  "Well, what did you think of the grocery store?" Mom inquired.

  "It's amazing!" Zach exclaimed. "Can we come back sometime?"

  Mom grinned, but also looked at him with that strange kind of sadness in her eyes again. "Maybe, Zach," she answered. "But we'll have to wait and see what happens tomorrow."

  They stowed their goods in the trunk of the car. As she closed it, she turned back to him. There was something sad in his own eyes, now—he could feel it, and she saw it. "I know you want to stay with us, Zach, but we can't keep you. I almost wish we could. But it would be wrong, so wrong for us to take you from—well," she sighed, "from Elliott or whoever you belong to. Someone out there loves you, Zach, and wants you back. I mean, look at you! How could they not?" She tried to make a smile, but it wouldn't quite come.

  The tip of his nose itched, so he scratched it with his thumb. For some reason, Mom turned away abruptly and got into the car. Zach climbed in, too, and they drove home in silence.

  *****