Craig jolted awake in the middle of the night. Someone was shaking him, calling his name—and crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It was Kara.
"Wake up!" she implored. "Craig!"
He lurched upright in the bed. "What is it? Are you all right?"
"Craig, we have to talk," she said.
He blinked at her, confused. "Right now? I was just planting California Redwoods in Hawaii. You know how hard it is to plant a three hundred-foot-tall tree on a beach? The crane alone took an hour to—"
"Please, I need to tell you," she begged. "It's really, really important."
Adrenaline suddenly reached his brain, shocking his mind into a measure of false clarity. "Zach! Is he still here? Where—"
"He's fine. He's still here." She swiped at the tears, but new ones took their places. "That's the problem."
She was trying to stay calm, but she was sweating. Craig reached out and pulled her close against his chest. He could feel her heart pounding, but next to him her breathing slowed a little. "Why's that a problem?" he asked.
"I—" She brushed her disheveled hair out of her face, drew in a deep breath, and started again. "I liked it too much, Craig. The dinner. Mother's Day. It was really special. That child in the guestroom calling me Mom and asking me about every plant in the yard. The Space Needle, the waterfront. Tucking him in. I love it all. And I hate myself for loving it."
"Huh," Craig said, as if pondering her words. He was thoroughly befuddled and still not fully awake.
"Because," she continued, "he could've been ours, Craig! Or maybe he would've been a girl, I don’t care, just a baby of our own. But it didn't happen. And now this boy—"
"Zach," Craig corrected drowsily. "You keep calling him 'child' or 'boy.'"
"I can't start giving him a name!" she snapped. "If you name a dog, you end up keeping it!"
"Zach isn't a dog."
"That's not the point! The point is, I can't keep him. He's not mine. I cannot be his mother. But…" She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I like…pretending…that I am."
"He's a great kid."
"That's not the point, either," she said. "Well, yes, I guess it is, in a way. He was so adorable, all soaked and dripping after he fell in the water at the beach. And when you two stood by that table this afternoon with dinner waiting… But there's no such thing as a small 'm', Craig. Not now, not with him. He never will be mine." She dropped her head into her hands. "I mean ours. Anyway, he has to go."
Craig sighed. A comforting answer eluded him. He held his wife, trying to corral his somnolent thoughts.
"We have to find his family," Kara said after a moment. "Whatever it takes, wherever they are—before I start liking this too much and stop trying."
"Yes," Craig said. It was all he could find to say.
Kara met his eyes, nodded, brushed the tears from her eyes again, relaxed a little, hugged him, and lay back down beside him. Within a few minutes, she began to snore lightly. Craig lay down and closed his eyes, but found it difficult to sleep.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 36