Eddie massaged his shoulder as a Venezuelan police officer escorted him down the ramp from the main deck of the ship to the port in the dim light. They followed the pavement alongside the water briefly before turning to pass by a group of forklifts. Nyler, as Eddie had expected, was waiting for him there.
"What took you so long?" Eddie asked. "They locked me up in the engine room." He tenderly probed a bruise beside his eye, his prize from a brief struggle with the guards.
"We got your father. Well done," Nyler congratulated him.
Eddie frowned. "I wouldn't have helped you if he hadn't shot Craig. Why couldn't I have had a normal dad—one who liked baseball and never thought to shoot people or strand them on deserted islands?"
Nyler lifted his eyebrows at that last image.
Eddie fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "So you got him. What happens now?"
"Now," Nyler sighed, "we go home and do lots of paperwork on all this."
"Yeah, but what about me? You still going to let me go free?"
Nyler shrugged. "I suppose. Unless…"
"Unless you decide to arrest me?"
"Unless you'd enjoy catching a few more bad guys."
Eddie narrowed his eyes at Agent Nyler. "We caught my father. Who else—"
"Remember the agent you knew as Albert K.? I got word yesterday that he's pleading guilty to all charges. That leaves me with a problem." Nyler paused and looked out across the docks, making the most of the moment. "I need a new undercover agent."
Eddie's mind faltered, trying to make sense of Nyler's words. His knees almost gave way. "Me? I can't—I mean, I have a record."
Nyler raised an eyebrow. "What record? I checked. You've never been charged with a single crime, never arrested. You've never had so much as a parking ticket."
"But I—" His voice abandoned him for a moment. An undercover FBI agent? Was that even possible, or was Nyler playing a cruel trick? Recovering, Eddie shook his head. "You have to go through a lot of training for that. And college. I've never—"
"Normally, yes," Nyler agreed. "But your case is unique. I've been making some calls. We can get you the education and training. In the meantime, you have some skills that could be useful to us."
Eddie just stared at Nyler for a long time. Then he laughed—more of a yell at first, but it grew into a full, long, loud laugh at what, except for Nyler standing here offering it, could only be a ludicrous dream, a fantasy. An FBI agent, Eddie Lerwick! And undercover, at that! Who would have imagined it? Robin Hood himself would have been jealous.
Nyler's eyes shone at Eddie's reaction. He nodded once. "Good. I'll make the arrangements once we get back home." He turned to walk away.
Eddie gaped after him. He still couldn't believe it. "Hey, one condition—I want a badge!"
"Fine," Nyler called over his shoulder, "you can have a badge!"
Epilogue
Two weeks after word came that Dr. Lerwick had been arrested, Kara put the finishing touches on a long, slender box covered in silver wrapping paper and snuck it out to the den. She glanced out the picture window to make sure Zach wasn't looking, then tucked the gift under the Christmas tree. It was the first gift there this year.
She admired the tree for a moment, then turned to tidy up the den. Craig's current novel she returned to the end table beside the couch; the book Zach was reading she set on top of Craig's. Both boys tended to leave their books on the couch—yet another trait they had in common.
A thick, black jacket rested in a heap on the armchair, and she scooped it up to deposit in Zach's room. It was Cayden's, and how the child could have forgotten his jacket as he walked home on a day as chilly as yesterday was beyond Kara's comprehension.
She folded the jacket neatly across Zach's desk, her eyes checking the status of his room. He had picked it up sufficiently well last night; only the clothes he had worn yesterday were out of place, strewn on the floor by the closet instead of tossed into the hamper like they should have been.
The strangeness of the past seven months struck Kara again, for the millionth time. This room had been their guestroom—Craig's storage room, truth be told, she recalled with a touch of good humor. Now, it was arranged neatly; somehow she had managed to train Zach to make his bed every morning.
There were pictures on the wall. A couple of them were photographs, one a shot Officer Carter had taken of Craig, Kara, and Zach together on the ferry, another a photo of Craig and Kara that Zach himself had taken just last week. Others were Zach's sketches—a hand-drawn portrait of Paws, recognizable as a yellow dog; a colorful geometric design from art class; and two drawings he had kept from those that had been on his wall in Dr. Lerwick's house. The Valentine's Day heart, though, Kara had given a place of honor, framing it and hanging it on her bedroom wall.
The doorbell rang. Kara went to the entryway and opened the door. Officer Garrenton stood there in civilian clothes, flanked by Agent Nyler and Eddie, the three of them perched on the porch step, out of the rain. It still seemed strange, not having a police officer posted there to guard; the guards were, of course, no longer needed.
"Come in!" Kara said, stepping back to let them inside. "Not on duty this morning?" she asked Officer Garrenton as she closed the door behind the group.
"I have the weekend off," the officer replied, "but Clint said I needed to be here." She sent Agent Nyler a playful glare.
"For what?" Kara asked, looking up at Agent Nyler. At his side he held a slender, brown case by its handle.
"He won't say," Officer Garrenton replied mysteriously.
"He won't tell me, either," Eddie remarked.
Nyler pursed his lips. "I think the ambassador wants to tell you himself," he said to Kara.
"The ambassador?" she inquired.
Agent Nyler glanced toward the den. "Are Craig and Zach here?"
"Yeah," Kara answered, "outside playing catch."
"In the rain?" Officer Garrenton asked disapprovingly. "It's nearly December!"
Kara shrugged. "It's a boy thing, apparently." She gestured to the dining table. "Make yourselves at home. I'll get them."
She went to the side door and stuck her head outside. "Craig! Zach! We have company!"
She ducked back inside to find Paws sniffing about the kitchen. "How did you get past me?" she asked him, but he ignored her and busied himself in a search for neglected crumbs. "Fine," she told him, "I guess if everyone else gets to come inside, you can, too—for a few minutes."
Agent Nyler drew a thin laptop computer from his case and set it up on the table as Craig and Zach made their way into the house. Both boys, noticing Kara eyeing them, dutifully wiped their shoes on the mat outside before entering.
"You got your sling off," Eddie observed, waving toward Craig's right arm.
Craig set his baseball glove on the table and rotated the arm to work out some stiffness. "I did," he replied. "The arm's not quite as good as new yet, but it's getting there. The ribs are better, too."
"Hi, Eddie!" Zach said, tossing his glove in the air and catching it again. As Craig exchanged greetings with Nyler and Officer Garrenton, Zach stepped over to Eddie and nudged him with his shoulder. "You're still not in jail?"
"Not yet," Eddie responded, raising his eyebrows at the physical contact. He shoved Zach away playfully, and Zach gave him a grin and shoved him in return before moving to take the last seat at the table. Eddie glanced up at Craig in surprise.
"He's been like that ever since we found him on the bus that night," Craig explained.
"I'm more okay with touching than I used to be," Zach said openly. "It still feels weird, though."
Officer Garrenton waved a hand toward the Christmas tree. "Decorating already?"
"Yeah, just started last night," Kara answered. "Craig and I always put the tree up the weekend after Thanksgiving." And it had been a good Thanksgiving, with much to be thankful for.
"Mom
, there's a present!" Zach cried suddenly, jumping up to investigate it. Sensing the boy's excitement, Paws trotted to the tree after him and sniffed the gift. Zach slipped it out from under the tree and turned it over in his hands. "It's for me!" He grinned at Kara and shook it.
"What is it?" Officer Garrenton prompted him.
The boy weighed it and considered its length, longer than his arm. "I think it's a baseball bat," he decided.
So much for the surprise, Kara groaned to herself. Oh, well—there would be other presents, though only a few more this year; she and Craig were still figuring out how to afford having a son around the house, one who already ate more than Kara did and would outgrow his shoes again in a few months.
"Here we go," Agent Nyler announced, stepping back from the computer screen. "Mr. and Mrs. Fleming—and Zach," he said, "come stand here so the ambassador can see you." He indicated one end of the table and positioned the laptop so they would be within the built-in camera's range of vision.
"The ambassador?" Craig repeated.
"The U.S. ambassador to Venezuela," Nyler specified. "He has something to show you."
Officer Garrenton and Eddie joined the Flemings at the end of the table, standing to either side of them just out of the camera's range. Nyler initiated a video connection on the computer and stepped to Craig's side.
The screen flickered and resolved on the face of an Hispanic man in a cream-colored dress shirt, standing in front of a concrete wall. "Your timing is perfect, Agent Nyler," the man said in native English. "She just woke up."
"Ambassador Raso," Nyler responded. "this is the Fleming family—Craig, Kara. And this, of course"—he put a hand on Zach's shoulder—"is Zechariah."
"Hello, Zach," Ambassador Raso said. "I'm Gilbert Raso, United States Ambassador to Venezuela. I've heard a lot about you recently. Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, it's a pleasure."
"Nice to meet you," Craig responded.
The ambassador continued. "I asked Agent Nyler to set up this connection for us. We're not quite ready to make an announcement to the press. The Venezuelan authorities here suggested that you be the first to know." He glanced to the side, then returned his gaze to the screen. "Local police tracked down Dr. Lerwick's research lab in a warehouse in Caracas three days ago. He refused to say where it was, but his assistant, Dr. Wilson, finally gave them the location. They found something…unexpected. There was an artificial womb—in use—and, er…"
Ambassador Raso motioned to someone out of sight, waving them over to him. A young couple came timidly into the picture, a Venezuelan couple in their early twenties. The woman held an infant in her arms, wrapped in blankets. The baby squirmed and protested softly.
"Oh my," Officer Garrenton said under her breath.
"He did it again," Eddie whispered wonderingly.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fleming," the ambassador said, "this is Mr. and Mrs. Abalos. They live here in Caracas. And this little one Señora Abalos is holding is their new daughter. They're naming her Genesis."
Kara stared in awe at the tiny child thousands of miles away. "She was…born the way Zach was?"
Ambassador Raso nodded. "She was on schedule to be born this week. The police found her just in time to contact her parents. Fortunately, Dr. Lerwick had kept detailed records on them. They met their daughter yesterday. Señor Abalos—he got to lift her out of the artificial womb himself." The ambassador smiled at the baby and then, with a small, awkward wave, excused himself from the picture.
Craig took Kara's hand, and they stared at the infant together.
Mr. Abalos cleared his throat nervously and began to speak to them in Spanish. Kara glanced down at Zach, who listened intently.
The boy looked up at her, dazed. "He says they found his daughter because of me. But I didn't do anything, Mom. I just—"
Mr. Abalos spoke again. Again, Zach listened and turned to Kara. "He wants to know if I'm normal, Mom, or if being born that way made me different." His eyes looked to her for guidance.
"Go ahead, Zach—tell him," Kara encouraged. "What's different about you?"
"I didn't used to like being touched," he thought aloud. "And I got sick a lot at first…"
Kara placed a supportive hand on Zach's back, and he replied to Mr. Abalos in Spanish. Both Venezuelan parents took his words in attentively, glancing between the boy and their daughter.
When he finished, Mrs. Abalos addressed him in a gentle voice. Zach translated for Craig and Kara. "She says the baby doesn't like being held. She's just like me!" He watched the squirming newborn, his eyes wide now, and bright.
Mrs. Abalos spoke again. "She said Genesis is like my sister!" Zach explained. He thought about that a moment with his mouth agape, then laughed. "Mom, I have a sister! Well, sort of."
He broke into Spanish again, and for the next minute chatted away with the couple in Venezuela, turning to Kara and Craig again only when the baby cried and distracted her parents. "They said I look really healthy, Dad," he told him with a grin. "I told them I eat lots of tacos and not just French fries."
"Señor y señora?" Mr. Abalos asked, drawing their eyes back to the screen. "Muchas gracias."
"That means 'thank you very much,'" Zach explained.
"We know that one, pal," Craig smiled.
Mr. Abalos spoke further, in Spanish. "He says thank you for helping them find out about their daughter," Zach translated.
"You have a beautiful baby girl," Craig told them. Zach translated that, too, and the couple smiled back.
Mrs. Abalos spoke once more. "She says Genesis is a surprise from God," Zach told them.
"Just like you were for us," Kara whispered to the boy. "Dios les bendiga," she said to the couple in what she was sure was an awful accent. She took care to get the last word right.
They repeated the blessing back to her, and Craig gave Kara's hand a squeeze. She glanced up at him, then down at their son, wrapping her other arm around the boy's chest and drawing him against her. He didn't pull away, didn't even flinch.
Yes, they were blessed. Still a bit overwhelmed, perhaps—but very blessed.
###
Personal Note from the Author
Thanks for reading The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain. If you enjoyed this book, please leave me a review at your favorite retailer and connect with me at the links below. I'd love to hear from you!
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About the Author
Kevin David Jensen was born in 1973 in Longview, Washington, where he first encountered the wonders of books, baseball, rain, and the great outdoors. In his youth, he dreamed of playing Major League baseball, but when he found it impossible to hit a Little League curveball, he decided to instead pursue an education, and went on to earn Bachelor's degrees in English and Religious Education from Harding University. He completed a Master of Divinities at Harding School of Theology in 2001 and later moved to the Yakima, Washington area with his wife, Jenny. When he's not writing or playing baseball in the yard, Kevin enjoys hiking, gardening, cooking homemade pizza, and hanging out with Jenny and their three children.
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