The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

When they finally descended from the Space Needle, Zach much more at ease on the ride down than on the ride up, Kara suggested that they take him to more of Seattle's distinctive landmarks. They rode the monorail that departed from beside the Space Needle and arrived downtown two minutes later, then walked from there to Pike Place Market.

  They brought Zach first to see the salmon-throwing seafood merchants at the Fish Market. They waited among a crowd of onlookers for a few minutes until a customer came along to buy a salmon. Then, sure enough, with a rhythmic chant-and-reply to announce the purchase, one of the workers lofted a three foot long king salmon to another worker who caught the fish, wrapped it in wax paper, and handed it off to the customer. The crowd cheered, Zach along with them.

  It was lunch time, so they settled down to eat at a tiny diner in the building across the street. It was no surprise to hear the youngster say it was his first time to eat out. He especially enjoyed the thick fries, lauding them as far more tasty than the skinny, overcooked fries they served at school.

  After lunch, they led Zach through a corner of the market to Post Alley and its famous Gum Wall, a long expanse of brick plastered with every color of chewing gum from the ground up to arm's reach, the masterpiece of years of tourists. "That is so gross!" the youngster exclaimed. He reached out to touch it.

  Kara quickly grabbed his hand away. "Gross is right."

  They explored the nine-acre market's multiple levels of shops for a while, Zach showing no interest at all in buying anything, but nevertheless having the time of his life simply looking at all the new wonders before him—produce stands, craft shops, street musicians, and customers of every variety.

  For the rest of the afternoon they explored the waterfront, walking up and down the sidewalk along Alaskan Way, checking out the shops lining Puget Sound. Zach was all eyes. Everything amazed him—the stores, the traffic, the monstrous Great Wheel that lifted passengers in a vertical circle over the water's edge. Even the seagulls excited him as they flew low overhead and swooped down to feast on morsels dropped by visitors on the piers.

  The youngster became as talkative here as he had been silent in the Space Needle; he asked about everything he saw. Craig and Kara began to answer his questions in shifts after a while, lest he exhaust them verbally. He wanted to know what the massive cargo ships crossing the Sound carried, why a small plane that flew by sported floats instead of wheels, and how it could be that the ferries coming and going from the city could carry dozens of cars at a time and not sink.

  "Can we ride the ferry?" he asked as they stood on a pier and watched one slip gently into its docking space.

  "If you like," Kara replied—it was her turn to answer his questions—"but I was wondering if you might like to go to the beach for a while."

  "The beach?" he answered with awe.

  "It's not like going to the coast, where people surf on the big waves and all that, but it's still fun," she said. "You can find clamshells, build a sand castle…"

  The youngster gazed longingly at the ferry. "Can we do both?"

  Craig glanced at his watch, then up at the sun leaning halfway toward the western horizon. "I don't think so, pal. We're running out of time, and we need dinner yet. You'll have to choose."

  "Can we ride the ferry another time?"

  Kara nodded. "If you're still with us, or if you come back to visit."

  "The beach, then," he determined.

  The decision made, they journeyed back to the car, then headed home for a quick meal of leftovers. Bellies satisfied, they departed for the beach, bringing Paws with them.

  Thirty minutes later, they pulled into a state park a few miles south of Seattle. "There are some nice beaches closer to home," Kara explained as they climbed out of the car, Paws leaping out first, "but dogs are allowed at this one. And besides, this one's special."

  "Why?" Zach asked as they traipsed across the parking lot toward the water.

  "This is where Craig asked me to marry him."

  "Right over there," Craig said, pointing to a jumble of logs resting not quite parallel with each other where grass began to grow out of the sand above the high-tide line.

  "We both lived in Portland then," Kara explained. "He took me to Seattle for the day, and on the way home we stopped here. He had brought a little picnic, so we sat on a log and ate and watched the sun set over the Olympic Mountains." She sighed, remembering. "It was nice. And then he knelt down on one knee in the sand and asked me to marry him."

  "And you said yes?" the youngster guessed.

  "I did," she said.

  Craig stretched a hand out to Kara and she took it, and they led Zach and Paws to the sand. Small waves lapped gently onto the shoreline a hundred feet from them; the tide was out, so that there was plenty of space to walk without getting wet.

  "You can find all kinds of shells here," Kara advised the youngster, "especially at low tide like this. Or you could play in the sand…"

  "Can I go in the water?" Zach asked hopefully.

  Craig chuckled and glanced at Kara.

  "Er… Well, okay, I guess," she replied. "But leave your socks and shoes on a log and roll up your pant legs. And here—take Paws with you." She handed him the dog's leash. He and Paws ran to the nearest log, and seconds later were splashing together at the water's edge.

  Keeping an eye on the pair, Craig and Kara strolled to the far end of the park's property—a short walk, but a pleasant one—and back again, not saying much. This was such a special place to them that it was enough to simply be there together.

  Zach and Paws extricated themselves from the water and chased each other across the sand for a minute, then returned to splashing around happily.

  Craig sat down on a log that could have been his and Kara's special one—with dozens of them strewn about, there was no way to be sure. Kara seated herself beside him. For a few minutes, they watched the youngster and the dog play together.

  Craig broke the silence. "This was a good idea, taking Zach out for the day. He's had a great time."

  "Yeah, it's been fun," she replied. Her face took on a wistful look. She gazed out over the Sound, toward conifer-covered Vashon Island a couple of miles across the water.

  "What are you thinking?" Craig prompted. She had the look of wanting to say something, but was hesitant.

  "I was just wondering," she began, "if this might be a good time for us to think about it again…"

  "About what?"

  Her eyes turned to Zach, who was reaching into the water to draw out some treasure he had spotted there. "About adopting…" She watched the youngster a little longer. "It's been fun, you know? Entirely bizarre—but fun."

  Craig listened silently, still holding her hand.

  She exhaled. "A week and a half ago, I was happy with the way things were. Now, when he has to leave…it just won't be the same."

  "It wouldn't be like this all the time," Craig pointed out. "There would be problems, our kid would get sick sometimes… We'd have to go to parent-teacher conferences…"

  "I could live with that."

  "I don't know if we should adopt based on one week with a boy who's a relative and thinks we're the best thing since sliced bread," Craig cautioned, but his heart wasn't in it. As he watched Zach run through the water with Paws, he couldn't help but wonder if he might have sometimes enjoyed days with his own children as much as he had enjoyed this day.

  "I'm only saying maybe we should look into it again, get some information from the children's home," Kara explained. "Not make any decisions yet."

  Craig watched as Paws escaped from Zach, his leash slipping out of Zach's hand for a moment. The dog splashed away, and Zach charged after him, laughing.

  "I could think about it," he said at last, "after we figure out what to do with Zach."

  Kara squeezed his hand. They gazed together out over the water, contemplating the future as boats sailed by in the orange glow of the evening sunlight.
<
br />   "Paws, no!" Zach yelled suddenly, and Craig looked just in time to see the youngster, the leash wound around his legs, topple over and disappear under the water as Paws tried to bound away.

  "Zach!" Craig jumped to his feet and ran, Kara right behind him. Zach was out in deeper water than Craig had realized. Just as he reached the water, though, Zach popped up. The youngster was drenched, of course, and thrilled about it, judging by the expression on his face.

  "It's freezing!" he exclaimed, trotting up to the sand with the dog in tow. Water streamed off them both.

  Kara took his shoulders in her hands when he reached the dry sand. "You really are a fish, aren't you?" She wiped the excess water from his head and face. He started to pull away. "Hold still," Kara ordered, and he obeyed, standing stiffly. She brushed water down his shirt with both hands, not drying him, of course, but trying to make him a little less wet.

  He blinked hard a few times. "My eyes hurt. I got water in them."

  "Hmm, maybe not a saltwater fish, then." He shivered, and Kara looked up at the declining sun. "It's getting late, Craig. He's going to catch a cold out here."

  A chill breeze was blowing across the water. The air was indeed cooling quickly as the sun settled atop the mountains to the west. "All right," Craig said. "Let's get you home, Zach. Did we bring any towels?"

  Kara shook her head. "I didn't think of it."

  "Neither did I," Craig said. "Some parents we are."

  Zach dripped as they fetched his shoes and walked quickly back to the car, Paws bounding alongside them. Craig caught Kara grimacing toward the youngster as he climbed into the back seat, soaking it instantly. With a wry grin, he gestured toward Zach. "Are you sure you want to think about getting one of these for our own?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Maybe one who's more inclined to stay dry."