Kara eyed the large, brown paper sack at the edge of the dining table with anticipation. Craig eyed it as well, but was patient. It had to be hard for him. She gave him an encouraging wink before turning back to the boy—Zechariah, her impossible son. "Yes, you will need a bath tonight, for sure. Every other night, like we talked about yesterday."
The boy—no, Zach; it was okay to think of him by his name, now that she knew he was hers—protested, predictably. "But I'm not dirty, Mom. Paws and I only played in the grass." He showed her his hands, and they were clean, but that was because he had washed them just before dinner.
"Zach, how come you love playing in the lake and the rain, but you don't like taking a bath?" she asked.
"Soap," he answered.
"Seriously?"
Craig shot her a knowing look. "It's a boy thing."
"Hmm." She would probably learn a lot of boy things in the days ahead. "Well, you do have to use soap. Oh, and Craig," she said, looking at him—he was fingering the sack—"I took Zach to the Social Security office today after school and got a 'replacement' card for him. They accepted the birth certificate, so they'll send us the card in a few days. I think that's all we'll need to get him on our insurance and to take him to the doctor."
"The doctor?" Zach asked warily.
"Mm-hmm," Kara nodded. "If you get hurt or sick, kiddo. It's one of those things parents have to think about."
"I haven't gotten sick in a long time," he mused. "I got sick a lot when I was little. I always had to go to the doctor."
Craig leaned forward slightly. "You don't happen to remember your doctor's name, do you?"
Zach shook his head. "I only remember he was a man. And he had a big fish tank."
Craig leaned back in his chair. "Well, I called the police department today to see if there's anyone out there looking for you, Zach, or anyone who says you belong to them instead of to us. They're going to look into it."
"What if there is?" he asked. "Will they come and take me away?"
"They might try, but they'd have a hard time taking you from us at this point. Giving you to another mother without our permission was illegal. I would think any judge would want you to be with your rightful parents."
Zach seemed to accept that prospect without worry; Kara wished she could say the same for herself. The thought that there might still be someone out there hunting for this boy who was her son haunted her.
"Zach," she changed the subject, "what are your responsibilities this week?"
"Feed Paws everyday," he replied dutifully, "and go to bed at nine o'clock."
"And don't forget Paws' water," Kara added. "And nine o'clock is for school nights. Maybe a little later for other nights."
Craig, with a glance at Kara, finally took the paper sack and slid it across to Zach. "I got you another shirt," he said. He spoke nonchalantly, but Kara glimpsed the excitement beneath his calm demeanor. "We thought you could use one more, if you want it. If you don't, you can give it back."
With appropriate curiosity, Zach opened the sack and pulled out a gray T-shirt with olive green-trimmed edges. "Grover's Grove" was printed across the front. He gave it a wondering look, glanced up at Craig, and peeked further inside the sack. He drew out a matching pair of pants and gray socks and stared at them, puzzled.
"Dad," he said at last, "this is a uniform from your team!" He looked at Craig, mouth and eyes stuck open.
"Larry's mom called me at work today," he said. "They're moving to Texas tomorrow. I didn't know they were moving so soon. So we have an opening. And since you're my son, I can put you on the team. But only if you want to."
Zach felt the texture of the jersey with awe. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Craig cocked an eyebrow. "Why don't you go try it on," he said, "see if it fits. You already have the hat. If you like it, the next game is tomorrow."
"The next game?" Zach caught his meaning a second later, jumped out of his chair, and ran with the uniform to the guestroom—his bedroom, they had begun to call it.
Craig looked over to Kara. "Well, I think he likes it," he shrugged.
From back in his bedroom, Zach let out a sudden whoop. Kara broke into a laugh. "Yeah," she said, "I think he does."
When Zach rejoined them a minute later, he was fully dressed in the uniform, glove in hand, bouncing with energy. Kara pulled out the camera and had him stand still in the front yard long enough for her to snap a few pictures. Then Craig drove him, uniform and all, to the school, where there would be space to let Zach practice hitting live pitches.
Kara viewed the photos on the camera as the boys left. Was this really, truly her son? The first picture she saw confirmed it. Put a light blue hat on him… A gray hat with olive green trim did the job sufficiently well. Even with the blue eyes, this was Craig's son, no doubt about it. And hers, as well. He wore his glove on his right hand. Her son, as well.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 44