The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain

by Kevin David Jensen

Zach, Douglas, and their dads joined the ladies in the seventh row behind the Mariners dugout. Food—Mariners dogs, soft drinks, and the stadium specialty, garlic fries—awaited them.

  "Great job out there, honey," Shanice welcomed Douglas as he slid into his seat beside her, Derek taking the seat on the far side of her in the middle of the row.

  Craig sat on the aisle with Kara next to him, and Zach took the seat on the far side of her, between her and Douglas.

  "How did we look?" Craig asked Kara.

  "Well," she mused, "if I didn't know you personally, I might have mistaken you for one of those fine-looking athletes out on the field." She congratulated him with a quick kiss.

  Zach showed his mom a ball signed by the Mariners' pitcher who had assisted them. "Look what he gave me! And the Moose called my pitch a strike, even though it was this far outside!" He stretched out his hands to illustrate.

  Kara laughed and set a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment. Turning to Craig, she gave his arm a proud squeeze. He glanced over at Zach, his son, chatting with Douglas now, pointing in fascination at the sights around the stadium.

  The game got off to a great start—the Mariners took a 4-0 lead in the bottom of the first inning. Midway through the second, Craig stretched and took another bite of garlic fries. "What do you think, Zach?" he asked the youngster. "Which are better, garlic fries or regular fries?"

  "Regular are way better," Zach replied. "But these are good, too." He gulped down a couple more of his own garlic fries.

  "Yep, he got your taste buds," Craig teased Kara. She preferred regular fries.

  A voice came from Craig's right, at the aisle. "Excuse me—Mr. Fleming?"

  Craig turned and found a copper-skinned man standing beside him, his thinning hair white and pulled back into a ponytail that hung to his shoulder blades. He wore a Mariners T-shirt, blue jeans, and a thin leather strap around his neck with a single, black feather dangling from it. "I'm sorry to bother you, but is this Zechariah Fleming?" the man asked, indicating Zach.

  "Yes," Craig answered, curious.

  The man nodded eagerly. "I heard his name on the loudspeakers and couldn't believe it. When I saw him on the video board, I recognized his face. I haven't seen him in years!" He peered past Kara at the youngster, who was still munching on garlic fries and laughing with Douglas. "He looks so healthy, so strong."

  "Do you know Zach?" Kara asked, leaning around Craig with interest.

  The man drew out a business card and handed it to her. "I used to be his doctor. John Blackfeather, pediatrician."

  Craig examined the card with Kara, then looked back at Dr. Blackfeather in astonishment. "You were Zach's doctor? How long ago?"

  "Almost from his birth. I'd say, what, about ten years ago?"

  Craig met Kara's eyes with a jolt of excitement.

  Kara turned to Zach, cutting in on his conversation with Douglas. "Zach," she said, taking his arm, "do you remember this man?"

  Zach studied Dr. Blackfeather's face a moment. "I'm not sure…"

  "I had darker hair back then," the man said with a grin, "but maybe you remember the aquarium in my office. Two rainbow trout, about this long." He held his index fingers a foot apart.

  Zach wrinkled his forehead. "Were you my doctor?"

  "Ha!" the doctor laughed. "He remembers! Kids usually remember the fish."

  "So you," Craig stammered, "you knew Zach when he was a baby? Can we talk to you? We have…so many questions…"

  "Well, not right here, I think," the doctor answered. "I'm in the way." He moved aside to let a woman pass him on her way down the steps. "Let's go up there." He pointed toward the main concourse above them.

  "Yes," Kara agreed. "Come on, Zach."

  Zach hesitated and looked longingly down at the field as the first Mariners batter of the inning stepped to the plate. But glancing up again at Dr. Blackfeather, he stood and came willingly enough.

  They followed Dr. Blackfeather up to the concourse. There they found a place behind the last row of seats where they could see the game but also stand and talk without being in anyone's way.

  Kara and Craig introduced themselves to Dr. Blackfeather, and he thought back. "I don't recall ever meeting the two of you. It was always his grandmother who brought him in for appointments."

  Craig nodded. "We're still trying to figure all this out. Zach just came into our lives a few months ago. We didn't even know he existed."

  "Didn't know?" Dr. Blackfeather repeated, cocking an eyebrow at Kara.

  "We think he was adopted out as an embryo," Kara explained, "after an in vitro procedure."

  "Fascinating," the doctor said. "Without your approval, I assume?"

  "That's right," Craig said soberly.

  The doctor rubbed his neck with one hand. "Would that explain the peculiarities?" he wondered aloud.

  "What do you mean?" Kara asked.

  Zach listened in, too, keeping one eye on the game below them.

  "Well, what stands out most in my memory," the doctor said, "are a couple of times when Zach was ill and I wasn't certain he would pull through. The first time, I needed to put him in the hospital, but his grandmother refused. Only as an absolute last resort, she said. The family didn't believe in hospitals. I told her it was time for last resorts, but she still resisted. So I kept him with me at the clinic for two full days, when he was the sickest. I didn't dare leave him. I was an hour away from taking him to the hospital against their wishes when his fever broke."

  Craig listened intently, the game forgotten. "How old was he?"

  "Maybe one and a half. There was another time when he was two—not quite as severe, but bad enough."

  Kara shared a glance with Zach. "What was wrong with him?" she asked. "He's told us he was sick a lot, but that's all we know."

  The doctor looked at Zach for a long moment, thinking back and also studying the youngster as he stood before him. "My diagnosis was primary immunodeficiency—he was born with a low-functioning immune system. It happens a lot with premature infants. In his case, he caught about every bug he could catch, and it took his body longer than normal to fight them off. For two years he was in my office every other week with some illness. We got to know each other well for a while."

  "How did he get past that?" Craig asked. "He's pretty healthy now."

  "As I recall, he started showing signs of improvement around three and a half years, and by his fourth birthday he was doing much better. I only saw him every few months after that. I think I remember giving him his vaccinations for kindergarten… And that was the last time I saw him."

  Kara nodded. "His grandmother died around that time, right after he started school."

  Dr. Blackfeather pursed his lips thoughtfully, then took a step toward Zach and put both hands on his shoulders. Zach flinched.

  "Hmm," the doctor muttered, "I had forgotten about that. You still don't like to be touched?"

  Zach shook his head. "I'm getting used to it, though. Families touch a lot."

  Dr. Blackfeather gave him a small smile. "That they do." He released Zach, but stayed where he was, looking into the youngster's eyes thoughtfully. "You look good, Zach. Are you getting a lot of exercise?"

  "Yeah, I get to play outside all the time now. Grandmother didn't let me play outside much; just in the back yard sometimes. But now I can go out whenever I want."

  "Dr. Blackfeather?" Kara had another question for him. "Why does he not like to be touched? Is there something wrong with him?"

  "Every child needs regular physical contact," the doctor answered thoughtfully. "He's the only exception I've encountered in thirty years of practice. I can't tell you why he doesn't like it. It doesn't actually hurt him—that was the first thing I checked for—but it's been like that since he was born. It makes him uncomfortable."

  Zach nodded his wholehearted agreement.

  Dr. Blackfeather continued. "But I found no
thing wrong with his skin or the nerves there. I thought it must be psychological. I advised his grandmother to hold him as much as she could when he was an infant, and to offer as much physical contact as he could handle, to get him accustomed to it. I thought that at some level he must still have a need for it."

  Zach fidgeted a little; this line of conversation itself seemed uncomfortable for him. Kara pulled off his green and gray baseball cap playfully, mussed his hair, and put the cap back on him. He rolled his eyes at her, but limited his protest to that.

  Dr. Blackfeather watched their interaction with interest. "I assume that his grandparents were not actually his grandparents at all?"

  "No," Craig confirmed. "We still don't know who they were. We've been trying to track them down." A thought struck him—an obvious one, now that it came to him. "Would you happen to have their names in your files?" If Dr. Blackfeather had their names, that would be some solid information to work from at last.

  "I should still have his records at my office," the doctor responded. "Listen, I ought to get back to my family and let you get back to the game, but my office opens at nine tomorrow. The address is on my card. Could you come by early, say around eight?"

  Craig looked at Kara, and she nodded. She wouldn't need to be at work tomorrow until ten. "Absolutely," he told Dr. Blackfeather. "We'll be there. Thank you."

  "Excellent," the doctor replied. "And if you don't mind me asking, does Zach currently have a doctor?"

  "No," Kara admitted. "We hadn't gotten around to finding him one yet."

  The doctor glanced at Zach again. "As healthy as he looks, I can see why. Bring him with you, then, and I'll give him an examination, if you like."

  Zach, who was watching the ballgame again, turned back to Dr. Blackfeather apprehensively.

  "Don't worry, Zach," the doctor assured him. "I won't do any more touching than I have to. Then again," he added with an instructive nod, "a little touching won't hurt you."

  Zach sighed and looked toward the game again. Dr. Blackfeather bade them farewell and departed down the concourse.

  "Craig," Kara whispered, taking his arm excitedly, "we're going to find out who had Zach! Finally, we're going to find out!" Zach seemed genuinely interested, too; at his mother's words, he even turned his back on the game for a moment.

  As for Craig, after so many frustrations, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. But, he had to admit, this was a promising lead. He hugged Kara with one arm, and they stood together behind Zach, watching him watch the game again before they returned to share this news with Derek and Shanice.

  *****