Craig coached another game Saturday morning, but his heart wasn't in it, and that was very unlike him. Zach's was, though—this was the youngster's third game sitting in the dugout with the team. Today he had brought Kara's glove with him and played catch with the team during warm-ups. He fit right in with the other boys, and they were starting to accept him as an honorary part of the team.
Craig watched him. Kara was right—Zach could be his son. They had a lot in common, he and Zach. These past days since the second DNA test had been quiet, Craig often simply observing Zach, Kara doing much of the same. They were wondering. Zach was certain, but they were wondering.
He went through all the motions as the game wore on, but his mind was on those test results that had not yet arrived in the mail. His team lost the game, and in the most exciting way, with an incredible diving catch by the opposing center fielder that stranded the tying run on second base. It was an amazing play for a ten-year-old, and Craig made a special effort to congratulate the center fielder. He always tried to model good sportsmanship for his players, and now for his son.
No—that was premature, and probably entirely wrong. It made more sense that the first DNA test had been flawed. The second test would clear things up. Life would be simpler if Zach were Elliott's son.
Zach talked about the game all the way home, and Craig tried to listen, both to the words and to the youngster behind them. But he was distracted, and his replies were vague. When they got home, Zach hurried through the house and out to the back yard to play with Paws. He never tired of being outside. Craig walked to the mailbox and checked it, but it was empty.
He headed inside, but did not find Kara in the kitchen or the den. He called out the side door to Zach, but the youngster reported that she was not in the yard, either. Craig checked out front again—her car was there, and the front door was unlocked, but she wasn't in their bedroom or either bathroom.
Nudging the guestroom door open, he found her sitting cross-legged on Zach's bed, a paper in her hand, an empty envelope beside her on the bedspread. She didn't look up as he came in or even as he settled beside her. She did hand him the paper, though, and he read it. It was the test results.
Zach was their son.
Over ninety-eight percent certainty for both paternity and maternity. The first test results had not been an error. And Kara wouldn't question his faithfulness anymore, not that she had since Tuesday morning.
Now they had a new problem. They had a son.
Craig didn't have any words to suit the moment; he was overwhelmed. He put his arm around his wife, and she leaned into him. They sat together in silence; no tears, no laughter—just silence. They had tried to prepare themselves for this possibility since Tuesday, but how could a person be prepared? He read the letter over again, then once more.
Kara looked at him; her hazel eyes seemed worn out, not like she had been crying, but like she wished she could. She reached up, took off his ball cap, and ran a hand through his flattened hair. She attempted a weak smile, but it faded quickly.
They heard the youngster coming down the hall, pounding a baseball into Kara's glove as he walked. He stopped short, seeing them on his bed as he entered the room, but recovered quickly. "Paws doesn't want to play today, I guess," he said. "He just wanted to be petted. I think he's—"
"Zechariah," Kara interrupted him, but he continued on.
"—still tired from yesterday, 'cause we ran around the whole yard at least twenty times, and—"
"Zechariah!" she demanded.
Startled, he closed his mouth, eyes wide.
"Come here," she instructed him gently. She slid a little to her right, away from Craig, and patted the open space between them. He hopped up into it with a curious look at Craig.
Craig handed him the letter.
Zach read it from top to bottom, where the verdict was given. Then he looked left to Craig and right to Kara. "Is this for sure, Dad?" he asked, looking back at Craig.
"It's for sure," Craig confirmed. "The DNA test proved it."
"Even if I didn't come out of your tummy?" he asked Kara.
She sighed. Her voice was strained with emotion, but kind. "You were right. And whoever told you—your grandmother, and whoever told her—they were right. I didn't believe it was possible until Tuesday…"
Zach looked at the letter again thoughtfully. "It's true. I knew it. So…this means I can live here with you?"
"Maybe," Craig told him. "We still need to find out where you've been all these years, and why. They might be expecting to get you back."
"They sent him away," Kara reminded Craig. "They wanted us to have him." She rubbed Zach's head affectionately. "Don't worry, kiddo. We're keeping you."
Craig surprised himself with a sudden chuckle. "I guess Paws can keep his stray boy after all." Zach grinned. "Just…" Was he really saying this? To his son, their son? "Just give us a little time to get used to being…you know, parents."
"You bet," Zach said, grinning at both of them. "This is awesome! We should do something. We should have a party!"
"I think," Kara replied with a little less strain in her voice, "the first thing we need to do is to buy you some new underwear. My son is not living with just one set of underwear."
"Underwear, Mom?" Zach groaned, throwing up his hands. "You finally believe you're my parents, and you want to buy me underwear? Really?"
"You'll need shirts and jeans, too," she said. "And chores…"
"Definitely chores," Craig added. "And your own baseball glove."
"Awesome!" Zach exclaimed. "The glove, not the chores. But chores are okay, too," he added quickly.
Kara shifted on the bed and put her arms around Zach, embracing him. Craig stretched one arm around both of them. Kara spoke softly. "We didn't believe you, Zach—we couldn't—but now we do. We can't explain any of this, but we believe you. And we'll be the best parents we can be."
"Whether you like it or not," Craig inserted.
"And whatever happens, you will always have a home here, Zechariah Timothy Fleming. Always." She squeezed him tightly.
Strangely, the youngster tensed and didn't return the hug. But then, a lot of strange things had happened lately.
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 41