The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

To the boy's delight, Granddad gave Zach his undivided attention all afternoon. They made a temporary home for the crayfish, and then he taught Zach to play Frisbee. After dinner, Grandmom took over, showing him quilts she had made and having him help her cook up a brownie mix for dessert. Over the brownies, of which she fed him several, she regaled him with tales about his dad as a boy—his first baseball season, how cute he had looked in his first Halloween costume (she was impressed when Zach recalled that he had been a pirate), how strangely he had acted when he had first fallen in love with Kara and didn't want anyone to know.

  At bedtime, Kara sat on the edge of Zach's bed—Craig's childhood bed—as the boy scooted under the covers. He still had chocolate smudges from the brownies around his lips.

  She traced her own mouth with a finger. "You have chocolate right around here." She reached out a finger to wipe the smudges off, but he pulled away from her. "Oh—I guess you're old enough to get it off by yourself, huh?"

  He wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Mom, I thought Granddad might be a lot like Grandfather, but he's totally different. Grandfather who said he was my grandfather, I mean."

  "Grandfather you grew up with," Kara nodded in understanding. "How is Granddad different?"

  "He's really fun. He actually talks to me. Grandfather would only talk to me when he was telling me what to do. If I tried to talk to him, he would tell me to leave him alone. But Granddad likes it when I talk to him."

  "He sure thought you were funny with that crayfish," Kara noted with a poke to Zach's belly.

  "Yeah," Zach grinned back, pulling away from the poke.

  Mom tipped her head to the side. "Do you ever miss Grandfather?"

  "No," Zach replied easily. "He just worked on his computer and ignored me, or read his papers and ignored me—or got mad and yelled and then ignored me. So I mostly ignored him, too."

  Kara frowned. Why had they—whoever they were—given her son to a man who had paid him no attention? "What about Grandmom? What did you think of her today?"

  "I like her. She's really nice. Why did she ask Dad if he's still running his own business? She sounded like that was a bad thing."

  Kara sighed. "Oh, she always wanted him to get a job that made more money so we could—" She hesitated.

  "Could what?"

  Kara bit her lower lip. "Could afford to have kids—maybe adopt or something. She really wanted us to have children, but…kids are expensive." In a lower voice she added, "A little more money would have been helpful."

  Zach processed this information for a moment. "But now you have me. So…"

  "So…I suppose she's wanted your dad to do something else for so long that she's forgotten why. Still, now that she's met you, maybe she won't worry about it so much."

  Zach turned his blue eyes—surely stolen from Craig, Kara still thought, in spite of the color difference—to her. "Do you think Dad should get a new job?"

  Kara shook her head. "No, I want him to do what he loves—working outside with dirt and plants, working with Derek. For him, there could hardly be a better job." She smiled. "Plus, he can get off work whenever he wants to. Derek covers for him, and he covers for Derek. That's pretty special."

  Zach fluffed his pillow once and plopped his head on top of it, then pulled the covers up to his neck. "Thanks for bringing me here, Mom."

  She smiled and began to tousle his hair, but he pulled away again. "You don't like it when I mess up your hair," she acknowledged.

  He considered for a moment. "Why do you do it?"

  "Because you look cute with it messed up," she teased, and he rolled his eyes. But there was more to it than that, and the boy waited for it. "I guess because…it lets me say I love you without actually saying it."

  I do love this boy, don't I? The thought was more a statement, a recognition, than a question. Didn't I love him the first time I saw him standing on the front porch, dripping wet from the rain? He was her son—in someone else's care for ten years, perhaps, but rightfully hers. How could she not love him?

  She smiled. "Maybe you'd rather I didn't mess up your hair."

  "No, it's okay," he answered, though with a second's hesitation. "When it's you. And Dad."

  "Okay," she replied tenderly. She smoothed his hair a little, but only a little; he accepted it with a blink. "I'll try not to overdo it. Good night, kiddo."

  "Good night, Mom." He wiggled into a more comfortable position.

  She left the door slightly ajar for him as she exited the room, wondering… A so-called grandfather who wouldn't talk to him, a so-called grandmother who had died a few years ago… Those mysterious people had nurtured this boy so well in some ways, neglected him in others. She wanted to understand so desperately… But why? she asked herself. Why not just let it go like Zach does? Why should it bother me when it doesn't bother him?

  But it did bother her. She was his mother; he was her son. She needed answers. He couldn't explain where he had come from, why he was the way he was—but out there somewhere was someone who could. Someone had the answers, if only Kara could figure out where to find that person.