The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

Mom, smiling fondly, had said Monday was a pretty much perfect day. Tuesday morning, Zach awoke feeling like this day would be even better, another day of new adventures with his mom and dad.

  He was the first person up, and he entertained Paws inside the cabin until Dad and Mom stirred and joined them. When they had eaten breakfast—dog food for Paws, but Zach and Mom both slipped him bits of sausage—they drove to a new beach a few miles south of their cabin.

  The sun was bright and hot as they parked. Mom collected her backpack from the trunk, took one look at the sky, and pulled out the sunblock.

  "No, Mom—really?" Zach wailed halfheartedly, though he knew it was no use. "I've never been sunburned in my whole life!"

  "That's because you've been inside your whole life," she returned. "Besides, look…" She touched his arm.

  "Ow!" Zach yelped; Mom touching him had actually stung!

  Mom gave him an I-told-you-so look. "We forgot the sunblock yesterday—so there you go, your first sunburn. Just a light one, but still…"

  "Wow," he said, admiring the reddish tint to his arm.

  Mom began smearing sunblock on the back of his neck.

  "Mom!" he complained, twisting away.

  "We'll be outside all day," she explained. "And you're not the only one; your dad and I need sunblock, too."

  Zach continued to frown at her.

  "Okay, then," she yielded, handing him the tube, "you do it yourself. I'll watch."

  She did watch, so he applied the sunblock until she was satisfied. It was smelly and oily, but at least he would get to stay outside the whole day.

  Zach breathed in a lungful of ocean air. It felt great. He loved his life now, with Mom and Dad.

  This new beach was different—all the better for exploring. He and Mom ambled along the shoreline. Mom found an especially long, thick strand of seaweed and jumped rope with it a few times. Zach grinned appreciatively. Mom was being a little weird, but it was pretty funny anyway. She handed him the seaweed and he jumped it a couple of times himself.

  A few minutes later they happened upon a dead crab nearly a foot across. "Awesome!" Zach cried, picking it up. "Look, Mom! It still has its pinchers! Can we take it home?"

  For some reason, Mom didn't find it quite as impressive as he did. "Technically pincers," she said, screwing up her face. "And no, we are not taking any dead animals home." She shook her head, muttered, "Must be a boy thing," and walked off.

  He and Mom wandered a while longer and then made their way slowly to Dad, who had hung back to let Paws explore wherever he wanted. When they had cleaned off their feet, they piled back into the car.

  "Let's see," Dad said, "we've got some options here. We could go to another beach, go up to the lighthouse, do a little hiking through the forest…"

  "I'd like to check out the kite museum in town," Mom put in. "Zach might enjoy it."

  Zach raised his eyebrows doubtfully. "Another museum, Mom?"

  "This one's different," Dad assured him. "Even I liked it last time. I might want to walk the boardwalk along the beach, too," he told Mom. "And maybe the whole Discovery Trail."

  "That's over eight miles, Craig," Mom demurred. "It would take most of the day."

  "Well, there's no rush. We have all week. Why don't we drive up to the lighthouse and see what we feel like after that? What do you think, Zach?"

  "Yeah, okay," he agreed. He couldn't imagine getting enough time on the beach, with its vast, open space for running and exploring, but a lighthouse sounded interesting, too. Mom nodded as well, so Dad guided the car through the park and up a hill to a trail.

  "Hey, Dad," Zach inquired as they locked the car and began the hike to the lighthouse, "can people ride horses on the beach? I saw some people riding yesterday."

  "Sure," he replied. "There's a place near here that rents horses."

  Mom and Dad had been so eager to let him do new things that Zach did not hesitate to ask, "Could we get some horses?"

  "I haven't ridden a horse in years," Mom put in. "Sounds fun!" Dad agreed, and it was decided that they would ride horses that afternoon. Zach was thrilled. It would be another new adventure.

  They walked most of a quarter-mile and came around a bend in the paved trail. Suddenly the lighthouse loomed up ahead of them, white with a red top. A few visitors walked to and from it on the trail.

  "Look at that!" Zach said suddenly, but—remembering the pregnant woman in the store—keeping his voice low, pointing ahead discreetly to a cluster of people standing at the base of the lighthouse. "Those people are talking with their hands!"

  "Sign language," Mom explained. "Like this…" She moved her hands in front of her, making no sense that he could discern. He raised his eyebrows at her. "I just said, 'They're talking in sign language.'"

  "You know how to do that?" Zach asked, impressed.

  She nodded. "I don't know much—just enough to help a couple of deaf people who come to Grover's once in a while."

  Zach tried to replicate with his hands what Mom had said with hers, but couldn't. "Can you teach me?"

  "Sure. Go…" She modeled the motion, and Zach mimicked her. "…see… light… house…" With the fingertips of both hands, she drew the roof and sides of a house.

  "You're amazing, Mom," Zach declared, trying to draw a house-shape with his own fingertips. It was harder than it looked.

  Mom beamed and tousled his hair. "I'll teach you more later."

  They were at the lighthouse. It was taller up close than Zach had expected. Paws didn't seem to care about it—he was busy tracking the sea gulls that crisscrossed above them, landing occasionally on the pavement and grass around the structure—but Zach thought it was fascinating.

  "Can we go inside it?" he asked.

  "You bet," Dad answered, "up to the top, if you want."

  After riding the elevator to the saucer of the Space Needle, going to the top of this lighthouse would be easy. And the view from here at the top of the cliff was spectacular. Zach could see for miles to the south, west, and north. Only behind them, to the east, where the hilltop was covered by forest, was the view blocked.

  "Come on," Dad urged, "let's see if it costs anything to go up."

  They made their way around the structure to its front, where a doorway opened into a small building at the base of the lighthouse. Mom, leading them, had barely stepped inside when her cell phone rang. "Look at that," she remarked, pulling it from her pocket, "I've got reception up here." Receiving Paws' leash from Dad, she stepped back outside, took the call, and wandered toward a fence bordering the edge of the cliff.

  Dad and Zach walked inside. An older gentleman manned a desk beside another doorway leading into the lighthouse tower. He was talking with a woman holding her small daughter, so Dad and Zach looked around for a moment, examining a few old beach photographs that dotted the walls.

  Mom peeked in the doorway, one hand keeping Paws outside. "Craig?"

  There was something wrong with her voice. Dad heard it, too; his head snapped up attentively. He stepped outside with her right away. Zach followed.

  "Craig, that was Jeff over at Grover's." Her eyes looked at Dad with a tightness Zach had never seen in them before, and she spoke shakily. "They took Grover to the hospital this morning. His daughter is there with him, so they're shorthanded at the nursery. Jeff needs me to come in as soon as I can get there."

  Dad ran a hand through his hair. "What's wrong with him?"

  "He wasn't breathing right," she said. "They're running tests. It's something serious."

  Dad exhaled heavily. "We can't just leave, Kara. We just got here. Zach and I were about to go up in the lighthouse."

  "We'll have to come back another time."

  "We can't get a refund on our cabin. You have to cancel seven days in advance. That's three hundred dollars for nothing, Kara! We can't just pack up and—"

  "Craig," Mom pleaded, "Grover's in the hospital.
Jeff's been by himself at the nursery all morning. We can run the nursery on three people when we have to, but one? He needs help; he'll need help all week. Milton is on vacation in Alabama. I'm the only person—"

  "They could close the nursery, just for a few days."

  "Somebody still has to take care of the plants. And Grover needs the mo—"

  "All right, I get it," Dad responded testily. He thought for a moment. "Why don't you take me and Zach back to the cabin and drive home, and then come get us on Friday? That way, at least Zach can get to enjoy the beach for a while."

  "And ride a horse," Zach chimed in. Mom turned to him with such a sorrowful look that he immediately wished he had kept quiet.

  She shook her head. "I'll have to work everyday until Grover can take care of himself again. We can't assume his daughter will be back at work by Friday."

  "Well then," Dad retorted, "send Lia to pick us up. Or we could rent a car."

  "Craig," Mom implored him. She touched his arm. "I'm worried about him. He's like an uncle to me. I want you there with me. And Zach." Paws sensed her urgency and moved to sit on her feet. "Yes, you too, Paws," she added, ruffling his yellow fur.

  Dad turned to gaze out over the ocean, shifting his weight. For several long seconds Mom watched him. At last she let out a long breath. "Okay, Craig, look—you're right. I know how much this means to you and Zach. Why don't you take me back to the cabin to get my things, and Paws and I will drive home. You guys can rent a car. I'll be okay for a few days."

  "All right," Dad agreed reluctantly, running his hand through his hair again. He looked up at the top of the lighthouse and back down at Zach. "You and I can come back here later."

  Zach gave a small, silent nod, and they hiked quickly back up the trail to the car and drove back to the cabin. Mom worked a minute to separate her belongings from Dad's—they had packed them into a single duffle bag—and Dad carried them out to the car for her. Zach collected Paws' food, leash, and bowls. He set them inside the trunk beside Mom's things and shut it.

  "You guys have a good time for me," Mom said to Dad with a sad smile, putting her arms around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder.

  "We will, Mom," Zach answered for him. It wouldn't be the same with Mom and Paws gone, but at least he and Dad would still be at the beach.

  "Kara, I don't—" Dad's voice caught. His lips moved, but made no sound. He closed his mouth, gulped, and began again. "We'll…go with you." He grimaced at the words even as he said them.

  "But Dad!" Zach objected.

  Dad sighed and looked down at him. "Your mom's right, Zach. If she's going to be working lots of extra hours for Grover this week, she'll need us there to take care of her."

  Zach gaped up at Dad, feeling betrayed.

  Mom stretched up to give Dad a kiss. "Thank you," she whispered, and released him. "I know it's not what you want—either of you." She wiped a tear from one eye.

  Dad turned to Zach. "Next time, all right, pal?"

  Zach frowned. It didn't feel all right inside—he wanted to stay at the beach! They were supposed to have adventures all week! And he had put on all that smelly sunblock for nothing.

  Mom looked at him and sniffled. "I'm sorry, Zach," she said, reaching out to mess up his hair. "I'm sorry." He didn't pull away, though he wanted to.

  Mom's eyes found his, and suddenly Zach felt tears welling in his own eyes. A part of him wanted to complain, but instead he bit his lip and said nothing…for Mom's sake.

  *****