Chapter 15
"Will you let me call the police? Craig?" Kara stood barefoot in the doorway between the kitchen and the garage the following morning, watching her husband throw a few tools into the cab of his pickup. His hesitation did not surprise her; he didn't want to involve the authorities. It seemed to her, though, the best way to proceed. Craig, even with her help, couldn't continue searching for connections to the Lerwicks forever.
He looked up at her, running a hand through his hair. How could a guy who did that so often still have so much hair? At last he shrugged reluctantly. "Maybe you're right. Can I have today to think about it?"
"Provided that you stay home tonight and don't go off looking for anymore Lerwicks," she answered, rather more bluntly than she had intended. "Ben and Lia and the girls are coming over for dinner."
"I remember," he assured her. "Besides, I really do need to have Zach throw me some soft tosses, loosen up that arm so he doesn't injure it. I pushed him too hard last night."
Kara, in her robe, stepped across the garage's cold concrete to kiss her husband. "He loved it. He was genuinely happy when he came in, all dripping with sweat."
"I was almost as sweaty as he was. He worked me pretty hard, too." Craig looked down at her sheepishly. "You were right last night. Thanks." He wrapped his arms around her.
"You're welcome, you bozo," she replied, enjoying his warmth. "Think about it, okay?—about calling the police tomorrow. They're not going to take him away, not once we show them everything we've learned about him."
"All right, I'll think on it. It could save us a lot of time." He gave her a small smile as he climbed into the pickup. She watched him back it out into the street.
The two boys had gotten along with each other just fine this morning. One would never have known there had been any tension between them just last night. For the first time in a couple of weeks, Zach had been his usual, talkative self again, though with just a bit of an edge to his voice. He was tired; Craig had let him stay up to watch the end of the Mariners game.
Now it was nearly 8:30. Kara returned to the kitchen and heard Zach brushing his teeth in the bathroom. "Time to go, kiddo!" she called to him. She went to his room to fetch his backpack for him; the room was a minefield of books, toys, and laundry strewn across the floor. She tiptoed through it to reach the backpack, then back through it to the hall.
Zach drew his jacket from the coat rack as she approached. "Thanks," he said politely as he received the backpack from her. He pulled his ID tag out of its smallest pocket and draped the attached orange lanyard around his neck. This year's tag showed an older Zechariah Fleming than last year's and listed his teacher as "MR. HERD—FIFTH GRADE."
Kara opened the front door for him and followed him outside. "Do you have your key?"
He checked his pocket. "Yeah. Hey, Mom," he asked, stepping out into the grass before turning back to her, "can I go to Cayden's house after school? I won't stay there too long. We just need to finish our game."
Kara cocked one eyebrow at him. "Is your room clean?"
His face fell. "I didn't have a chance to clean it last night. I was playing catch with Dad. And before that, I was playing soccer with you."
"It would only have taken you five minutes. You could have done it this morning."
"If it will only take five minutes, can't I please clean it after I get home from Cayden's house?" Despite the "please," the boy's tone hinted at impertinence.
"No, Zechariah," Kara replied, growing impatient. "You have to clean it before you go. And I want it clean before your cousins come over tonight."
"But Mom—"
She planted her fists on her hips and glared at the boy. "Zechariah, you come straight home from school, you understand me? Tell Cayden you can come over tomorrow if your room is clean."
Zach stomped his foot on the grass—the impertinence was full-blown now. "You have more rules than Grandfather!" he yelled at her. He turned and stormed away across the grass.
That made her angry. "Yeah? Well, maybe you'd rather go back and live with him!"
He spun and sneered at her. "I can't, Mom. He's dead!"
"Oh, well, maybe we can find another place for you, then!" As soon as she spoke the words, she cringed, ashamed.
Zach, though, just spun back around and kept walking. In moments, he was down the street and out of sight.
Kara covered her face in her hands. Last night had turned out so wonderfully. Why did she have to ruin this morning, blurting out something so foolish? Not that the boy hadn't helped.
This great task of parenting—at the moment, she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. She was furious with Zach, and he deserved it. At the same time, as she glanced back to where he had disappeared down the street, she missed the boy already, even if he was just on his way to school. She would try to do better when he came home. Hopefully he would, too.
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The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 85