Caleb's Christmas Wish

by Debra Salonen

  He decided to ask Jake if maybe he knew when she’d come back.

  “I gotta ask Jake somethin’,” Caleb told his friend Bradley. “You stay here.”

  “Okay,” Bradley said.

  Bradley took the car Caleb had been racing and put it on his side of the track. Caleb didn’t care. He needed to find Jake.

  Jake lived a long ways away. He told Caleb he came here because he’d promised Caleb’s daddy to look after Caleb if anything bad ever happened. Caleb liked Jake. A lot. He was fun to be with. Ally wasn’t as much fun, but he knew his mommy loved her. They always hugged when they saw each other. Ally didn’t hug Caleb much, but that was okay. Sometimes people hugged him too much.

  Like Bradley’s mother. She was always picking him up and squeezing him. Caleb peeked around the wall to make sure she wasn’t close by. He wanted Jake, not her.

  That’s when he remembered that Jake told him he had to go to town with Ally. But they were coming right back.

  Caleb couldn’t tell time, yet, but he figured they should be back by now so he stealthily maneuvered past a group of adults into the living room. Nope, no Jake.

  Darting behind the big chair where he’d hidden yesterday when the policeman came, he paused. A loud voice said, “We’re not equipped to understand God’s will, but we can take solace in knowing that heaven opens its doors to good Christian souls like Ken and Pamela.”

  Caleb grinned. His mother hated to be called Pamela. “Pam. Just Pam,” she used to say when meeting someone new. “Like the nonstick cooking spray.”

  “They were good people,” another person said. “What a tragedy! You just never know when your time is up.”

  Caleb frowned. Sometimes adults sounded so serious it made his stomach hurt. He wanted Jake to make them leave. He was tired of all these people. Maybe if they left, his parents would come home.

  “And that poor little boy,” a woman said. “It just breaks my heart. After I heard the news, I picked up Tyson out of his crib and held him. Weeping like a baby. God, it’s just so wrong.”

  Caleb’s stomach hurt worse. He wanted to escape so he didn’t have to listen anymore, but he was afraid they’d see him.

  "Are the godparents back yet?” someone asked.

  Caleb knew that word. Ally and Jake were his godparents. His mommy once explained that they were like super-duper aunts and uncles who loved a kid just as much as his parents did, only they didn’t have to do any of the dirty work—like change diapers. Caleb hadn't worn diapers for a long time. That was for babies.

  “They’re on the way,” another person said.

  Caleb recognized the voice—Brad’s mommy. He hunkered down, trying to stay out of sight. She added, “They’ve picked out a mortuary and will be meeting with the director in the morning to finalize plans. The funeral will probably be on Wednesday or Thursday.”

  Funeral. Caleb knew that word, too. Brad had had to go on an airplane when his grandpa died because they had a funeral for him. Brad said it was icky. His grandpa was in a box, and they put it in the ground.

  Caleb’s heart started beating faster. They did that to old people, but not to people like his mommy and daddy. Right?

  He needed to ask somebody. Someone he trusted.

  Jake. He needed Jake.

  Unable to control his fear any longer, Caleb shot from behind the chair and raced into the kitchen. He could hear the people behind him talking and moving around. They might try to stop him, but he had to find Jake. Or Ally. Jake said they were both going to be here for him any time he needed them. And he needed them now.

  “Jake,” he cried, knocking over a stool at the counter. It made a loud clattering sound.

  The ladies at the table stopped talking to look at him. Two got up and came toward him, but Caleb whirled around and dashed down the hall. He checked his parents’ room, and the bedroom where Ally slept when she stayed with them. His daddy’s office.

  They were gone.

  Frantic and breathless, Caleb ran into his room and jumped up on his bed. He grabbed the first thing he saw to hold on to—the toy gun Jake had given him.

  Bradley looked up. “What’s wrong?”

  Caleb didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat hurt and tears were coming out of his eyes. Like a baby. A baby. He pictured his mommy telling him a few days ago, “Daddy and I are thinking about having a new baby. Would you like a new baby brother or sister, Caleb?”

  “No,” he’d said.

  His mommy had looked sad. And disappointed.

  Was that why she left? Because he didn’t want another baby in his world? Because he didn’t want to share her and Daddy?

  Bradley got up and walked to the red race-car bed. “Wanna play a game?” Brad asked.

  Caleb shook his head.

  The door opened and Brad’s mother stepped in. “Caleb, honey, are you okay? Jake and Allison will be here soon. I promise.”

  Caleb turned his back to her. He didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe anybody. He wanted his mommy.

  “Can I play with your gun?” Brad asked, reaching for the plastic toy.

  Caleb looked down at the oval race track where Brad had caused a pileup of cars. Right in the middle of the tangled mess was a black one that looked like his father’s Jeep. His heart thudded harder. Tears bubbled up. Anger surged through his veins.

  All of a sudden, Caleb was mad. Very mad. He pulled back on the gun, ripping it from his friend’s fingers, and used it to whack Bradley over the head.

  Bradley let out a horrible wail that seemed to shake the walls.

  Caleb started sobbing, too. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend, but he felt a little bit better knowing he wasn’t the only one in pain.

  “I’ve been checking some Internet sites on loss and young children,” Allison told Jake the next morning when he finally dragged himself out of bed. He couldn’t believe his internal clock was so messed up. Here it was nearly ten, and he was barely awake. “Violent outbursts are not uncommon. Lashing out when in pain is typical of young children.”

  Was it typical of sleep-deprived men, he almost asked? Fortunately, he remembered that Allison wasn’t thrilled by his quirky sense of humor.

  “Is Bradley going to live?” he asked, stumbling toward the coffeepot.

  “Yes. He’s fine. No stitches, although Gayle did take him to the emergency room to have him checked out.” Jake rolled his eyes. “The skin wasn’t even broken,” he said. “Well, maybe a little, but not much.”

  He and Allison had returned to utter chaos—one screaming child, another sobbing under the covers of his bed, well-meaning parents all trying to give advice and at the center, a plastic gun that everyone agreed had no business being in the hands of a distraught child. Great, Jake thought. He flunked Parenting 101 on the first day.

  He poured a cup of coffee and took a long pull, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. When the stimulant jump-started his mind enough to think, he looked at Allison, who was watching him from the little desk.

  Dressed in the same outfit she’d worn the day before—they’d never gotten around to driving back to town for her things—she said, “We need to talk.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I pooped out on you last night.”

  “You were exhausted. And Caleb wasn’t in any shape to go anywhere, either. Don’t worry. I’m sure the cats are fine, but I do have to get home sometime today.” She pulled at her sweater. “This outfit is getting old.”

  He was about to say that he didn’t know a single woman, Pam included, who could wear the same clothes for three days, but she didn’t give him a chance. Instead, she said, “According to this Internet site on grief, children should be included in the planning of a funeral of a loved one. Depending on their age, of course. What do you think?”

  That perky people should he outlawed before noon? Jake mumbled something that sounded like “I dunno” and went in search of food. Dozens of containers were strewn about the counter. He found a particularly delicious-l
ooking cake and dug in using a plastic fork.

  “Would you like a plate?” Allison asked, getting up from the desk.

  He shook his head. “No. I feel like a barbarian this morning.”

  Allison carried her cup to the coffeemaker. “Are you okay? I take it you didn’t sleep well?”

  “Just peachy,” he growled. “Nothing I like more than sleeping in my dead friend’s bed.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she turned away.

  Jake felt like a heel. “Sorry. I’m not really myself until I’ve ridden a couple of waves.” A surge of homesickness hit swiftly, suddenly. In Miami, he would have been up before dawn, out in the surf on his board. Instead, he’d tossed and turned in a bed that didn’t belong to him, in a house that wasn’t his, in a world where he didn’t want to be.

  Allison walked to the refrigerator and took out a small carton. “Cream?”

  “No, thank you. Black is good. Just please tell me this is the real stuff and not decaf.”

  She snickered softly. “As real as it gets. I ground the beans myself. And I like it strong, so you ought to be coming out of your stupor in a minute or two.”

  Her friendly grin seemed too contrary to his sullen mood so he dropped his eyes to the steam rising from his mug. The aroma held a scent he couldn’t quite discern. Vanilla?

  “Butterscotch,” Allison said, apparently reading his mind. Jake had always prided himself on being inscrutable.

  “It doesn’t change the flavor,” she added, “but I like the smell. After all, isn’t that what draws us to the stuff in the first place? Sure can’t be the taste.”

  Jake lifted the cup and breathed deeply. He liked the smell, too, and she was right about the flavor. The bitter taste was part of his routine—his midmorning break at the tiny pastry shop around the corner from his condo. Sitting at an outside table gave him time to plan his day, organize his thoughts.

  He could use a little of that organization now. Unfortunately, his current goals and objectives were tied to other people. And he was willing to bet that the woman watching him from across the counter had a long list of things for him to do today. “So, what’s our agenda?” he asked.

  She returned to the desk where she picked up the legal pad he’d seen earlier. “I have to go home to pack and pick up my cats,” she said, emphasizing the word have. “My assistant manager fed them yesterday, but they can’t stay there alone forever. Would you and Caleb like to come or stay here? Your call.”

  Jake’s first thought was to stay put, but maybe Caleb would benefit from an outing. One thing was certain, wherever they went—the kid went, too. Apparently, the hullabaloo last night stemmed from Caleb thinking his godparents had deserted him.

  “And I changed our appointment with the mortuary guy till two,” Allison said. “Since that’s up here, I thought we could arrange for Caleb to stay with Gayle. He needs to apologize to Brad; maybe take him a little present or something.”

  Jake hesitated. “If he's not cool with that, do you have a Plan B?”

  “Well, our other option is to split up. One of us stays with him, the other makes all the funeral arrangements.”

  Jake could tell she wasn’t thrilled about that idea, but he’d do just about anything to avoid seeing the look of heartbreak that had greeted him when he peeked under Caleb’s blanket last night.

  “Speaking of Caleb, where is he?”

  “In the bathtub.”

  Something in her tone made Jake look at her closely. Her cheeks were a dull red. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. Except that a four-year-old had to tell me that he needed a bath. What kind of mother doesn’t know that?”

  He didn’t understand why she cut herself so little slack when it came to parenting. Last night, she’d tried to blame herself for Caleb’s meltdown because she’d wanted to stop by her house after visiting Cordelia. “The kind that’s only been a mother for thirty-six hours?” he asked. “Did you hear me suggest a bath last night? No. Because number one, the kid was a basket case by the time we got home, and number two, it never crossed my mind.”

  “Well, he must have been awfully dirty because he’s been in there for over half an hour,” she said. “I kept pacing between the door and the kitchen. Finally, I slipped that baby monitor in the room. I figure as long as I can hear him splashing, he’s okay. Right?”

  Jake reached across the counter for the small white plastic unit with the puny antennae. He examined the little buttons on the side and pushed the volume higher and brought it to his ear. Other than a mechanical hum, he didn’t hear anything. Then suddenly, a deafening splash and squeal of pleasure made him jump back. “Wow, where’d you get this? It’s powerful.”

  “I gave it to Pam as a shower gift before Caleb was born. I spotted it on a shelf in the linen closet last night when I got the sheets for your bed.”

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked.

  “An hour or two more than the previous night. Progress, I guess.”

  He held the receiver in both hands. The child’s chatter was too garbled to make out distinctly, but it seemed as if Caleb was telling a story. “What’s he saying?”

  Allison shrugged. “I heard something that sounded like “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” a few minutes ago, but your guess is as good as mine.”

  Jake knew the tune. He'd heard Pam sing it to her son on several occasions. A sudden pressure squeezed his heart. When would the pain quit? he wondered.

  “Oh, and I just talked to Cordelia,” Allison said. “They’re moving her into a regular room later today. We might think about taking Caleb down—even if it means a second trip to Fresno.”

  “Are children Caleb’s age allowed to visit?”

  Her eyes went wide. The color brought to mind periwinkle—a word he didn’t even know was part of his vocabulary.

  “If not, they should be. I think we can make the case that these are special circumstances, don’t you?”

  She grabbed a pen from a Mickey Mouse mug by the computer, then hurried around the counter to stand beside him. Her fresh, outdoorsy scent wrapped around his senses. She didn’t actually touch him but was close enough for him to see the faint smudges of purple under her eyes and the chafed cracks in her bottom lip.

  She pointed to the top item on her list. “We don’t have to do this today, but we’ll need to pick out flowers as soon as we have the exact date and time. This is the florist in Oakhurst that Gayle recommended.”

  “Oakhurst. That’s where Rydell Motors is, right?” She seemed to weigh the motivation behind his question. “Yes. Do you want a new car?”

  “I can’t drive a pint-sized rental forever.”

  “What about using Pam’s? It’s practically brand new.”

  “I thought you might want to drive it. Instead of putting miles on your station wagon.”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. Red isn’t my color. I don’t need to catch the eye of every cop on the road.”

  Her halfhearted grin told him that wasn’t the real reason, but he didn’t push it. “Well, I don’t suppose there’s any sense buying another when I have a perfectly good one sitting in a garage in Florida.”

  “A fast one, I heard,” she said, nodding toward the little receiver.

  As if on cue, Caleb’s voice filled the room. “Mommy, I’m ready to get out.”

  Allison flinched as if struck. “He called me that by mistake this morning when he woke up. I almost lost it.”

  She started to move away, but Jake caught her elbow. The muscles beneath his fingers felt strong, but there was a fragility about her, too. “I’ll get him,” he told her.

  She blushed a sweet shade of rose, loosening his grip on her sleeve without making a fuss about it. “Great. Little boys aren’t all that modest, I noticed, but I’m sure he’d be more comfortable with your help. I laid out some clothes on his bed.”

  Jake was just about to the doorway when she said, “The neighbor across the street brought over an egg dish that looks
delicious. I thought I’d warm it up before we go.” Her lips curved in a playful smile. “Unless the cake was enough for you.”

  Jake shook his head. “Heck no. That was just to tide me over until real food showed up.”

  “Smart choice. You’ll need your strength.”

  “Oh, really? Why is that?”

  As she opened the door of the refrigerator a second time, she shot him a mischievous look. “I take it you’ve never tried herding cats.”

  “Herding cats?”

  “Ask Caleb. He’ll tell you all about it.” Her chuckle got him wondering—and not about cats.

  An hour later, the Subaru wagon pulled up in front of a smallish, but quaint circa 1940 bungalow on a tree-lined street. Like the houses on either side of it, the siding was a combination of stucco and wood. Allison’s home was a light tan with dark trim. The front lawns ran together and were neatly mowed with divots Jake remembered concealed in-ground sprinklers. As a teen, he’d mowed more than his share of lawns just like this one.

  Chest-high bushes with a shiny leaf that he recognized but couldn’t name encircled the building’s bay window. As she pulled into the driveway that ran alongside the house, Jake spotted a detached one-stall garage.

  She nosed the car close to the rear porch. “I’ll pack a few things while you guys bring in the cat carrier, okay? It’s somewhere in the garage. You might have to dig under some computer boxes,” she warned.

  Jake looked at his godson in the back seat. “We can handle that, can’t we, Caleb?”

  Caleb had a petulant look on his face. “Her cats don’t like me.”

  Allison spun in her seat. “Oh, honey, that’s not true. Cleo and Rom are a little shy, but if you let them warm up to you, everything will go smoothly.”

  Jake smiled as his keen hearing picked up the whispered, “I hope.”

  Allison got out, raced to unlock the door and returned to hand him the keys before he’d even gotten Caleb out of his booster seat. After she disappeared inside, he and Caleb went hunting.

  The garage was presumably the same age as the house. The heavy-duty padlock seemed overkill for such an unpretentious little building. He opened the door and looked inside. Dark, unfinished walls with one small window made it seem dungeon-like. Stacks of boxes—as if the homeowner never got around to unpacking—took up most of the space.