by Karen Young
“Call me Miss Rachel,” she told him. “That will be just fine.”
He smiled with relief. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
In the den, Jake was just replacing the receiver. He looked up in the act of reaching for his drink. Seeing her expression, he downed a good half of it before answering. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to go in there, Jake.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
She looked away as though searching the room for patience. With a deep breath, she faced him again. “Michael is ready to go to bed, Jake. As you asked, I went in to see if he needed anything.”
His brows lifted. “Yeah, so?”
“He does need something. He needs pajamas.”
“Pajamas?”
“Yes, Jake,” she repeated with measured patience. “As in clothing, something to cover his body. Pajamas, Jake!”
“Well…” He glanced toward the laundry room, then clapped his head with one hand. “Hell! I forgot to put that stuff in the dryer, didn’t I?”
“There are no pajamas in the laundry, Jake. He doesn’t have any.”
“No kidding?”
“Go see for yourself.” She made an exasperated sound. “He seemed to think it was okay.”
“Hey…” His tone was meant to soothe. “Don’t worry, I’ll go get him some clothes and then I’ll talk to him. He’s only behaving as he’s been reared to behave, Rachel. He wants to please us—he’d probably sleep in a three-piece suit if I ask him to.”
“Fine.” She turned away. “I’ll wait for you on the patio.”
THE DOOR WAS SLIGHTLY ajar when Jake reached Michael’s room. He held an old T-shirt in one hand. With the other, he rapped softly before stepping inside. “Hey, everything okay in here?”
“Yes, sir. Everything’s fine.”
The glow of the aquarium bathed the room in soft light. Michael lay on the bed on his side, one arm crooked beneath his head. His only covering was a sheet draped partially over his middle. As Jake approached, he scrambled up until his shoulders rested against the headboard. He was whip-cord lean, his skin winter pale, but the promise of strength and power was there, just as it had been in Jake at the same age.
Recognizing it, Jake felt sudden fierce father love. It gave him a shock. It was so quick, so…elemental, that he simply stood there at the bed for a moment, his errand forgotten. The boy had walked into his life less than fourteen hours ago and already he felt a kinship that could only be compared with his first moments with Scotty. Scotty had been tiny and discolored and squalling, outraged by the harsh reality of birth and the bright lights and chill of the delivery room. But just one look and Jake’s chest had swelled with emotion, a reaction that went beyond pride, beyond simple joy. It had been instantaneous and profound, and he’d never thought to experience it again.
He’d been wrong.
“You, uh…” Jake laughed softly and pinched the skin at the bridge of his nose. “You found everything you needed in the bathroom?”
“Yes, sir. More than I needed. I had my own toothbrush and stuff, but I’ve been out of toothpaste for a few days.”
Jake sat on the edge of the bed. “What were you using?”
Michael happily shifted over. “Oh, you know, soap or whatever else was handy. Pepsi.” He gave Jake a quick look. “That works pretty good. It foams and all.”
Jake could only imagine. “Here, I brought you something.” He handed him the T-shirt.
Michael took it, holding it out to read the words on it. “Kinard County Sheriff’s Department, 1990 Champions.” He looked up eagerly. “Champions of what? Baseball? Basketball?”
Jake smiled. “Would you believe waterskiing?”
“Waterskiing! Oh, man, I’ve always wanted to water-ski. Do you think I could learn?”
“Sure. First week in June, we’ll take the boat out and you’ll get your first lesson.”
Michael stared, mute for a second or two. Then he shook his head. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Want me to pinch you?” Jake asked, taking pleasure in the boy’s uncomplicated delight.
Michael laughed softly and began carefully folding the T-shirt. “I’ll wear this tomorrow.”
Jake reached out and touched his shoulder. “We’ll find something else tomorrow, Mike. This is to sleep in tonight.”
“Huh?”
There was such complete bewilderment on his face that Jake had to hide his smile. “I guess you’re not used to sleeping in pajamas back in Iowa.”
“No, sir.” He shrugged. “Nobody sees ’em, so what’s the point?”
“That’s true.”
“It saves having to do laundry, and since I was the one who had to go to the laundromat, it made a lot of sense.”
“You’ve definitely got a point there.”
“But I guess things are different here, huh?”
Jake took a breath. “Well, we do have Rachel to think about. Women have certain ideas about these things.”
Michael nodded, suddenly full of understanding. “I sure wouldn’t want to do anything to make her mad.”
“It’ll take more than a little misunderstanding over wearing pajamas to make her mad, Mike.”
Michael stared at the lettering on the T-shirt. When he spoke, his tone was solemn. “I know she’s already mad. Who could blame her? Having a kid you never even heard of walk in and having to let him live with you.” He shook his head. “It’s a wonder she didn’t toss me out right on my, uh, my tail.”
Jake took a minute before replying. “It was a shock to her, Michael. I won’t deny that. But you don’t have to worry about anything now. You’re my son, and wherever I am, you’ll be with me.”
Michael just stared at him.
“What is it, Mike?”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes. Absolutely. You have my word on it.”
Tears welled in Michael’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Words, Jake could see, were beyond him. Seeking to ease the moment, he asked, “While you were on the road, where did you sleep, Mike?”
“Truck stops, mostly.”
“I mean where specifically? Not in a motel room at a truck stop. I know you couldn’t afford that.”
“No, sir. Mostly in the back of trucks or sometimes at rest stops on the interstate.”
He spoke offhandedly, but Jake knew the situations a fourteen-year-old faced hitchhiking twelve hundred miles. His experience in dealing with runaways filled in the blanks all too well. Something twisted in the pit of his stomach. Why was it that his children, first Scotty and now Michael, seemed fated to experience such hardship? For a moment, he felt a depth of rage that rendered him speechless.
“It’s okay, Dad. I made it.” Michael grinned suddenly and pulled the T-shirt over his head. “Not that I’d recommend traveling like that, you understand. A couple of times, I almost freaked. You gotta be tough.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jake reached for him, succumbing to a need to touch him. He caught him around the neck, playfully locking Michael’s head in the crook of his arm. With his other hand, he ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “What’s the matter? Don’t you know not to leave home without your credit card?”
“I wish!” Michael laughed, then his arms tightened around Jake’s middle, and just for a few seconds they held fast to each other. When Michael settled back against the headboard, his smile faded. “Will you thank Miss Rachel for the meal and for giving me this room?”
“Yeah.” Smiling faintly, Jake added, “But remember what I told you. You don’t have to feel grateful. You’re my son. This is your home. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I’ll try not to bug her too much.”
“I’ll tell her.”
After a moment, Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems almost too good to be true.”
“It’s about time some good things came your way. Right?”
For a second, two pairs of gr
ay eyes met and held. Then Michael said softly, fervently, “I don’t want you to ever be sorry you let me stay.”
Jake reached out and wrapped a hand around his son’s neck, bringing the dark head close. “No matter what,” he told Michael, meaning it from the bottom of his heart, “that’ll never happen.”
“No kidding?” The words came out muffled, a little thick.
“It’s a promise.” Jake felt the slight shoulders relax before releasing him. He stood up. “Now. Lights out. You’ve got a big day tomorrow—school, shopping, because you need some new clothes—and you need to check out the neighborhood. I want you to feel at home here.”
Michael scooted down, making himself comfortable. “Will you go with me or Miss Rachel?”
“Me, probably,” Jake replied, looking at him. Smiling faintly, he watched as Michael’s eyes grew heavy. Exhaustion finally overtaking him, his breathing evened out, deepened. Jake reached over and snapped off the aquarium light, plunging the room into total darkness. He wondered how long it had been since Michael had slept in a real bed with a full belly and a sense of security. Looking around, he changed his mind and turned the tank light back on. If his son woke up in the middle of the night, Jake wanted him to see something that made him happy.
FROM THE PATIO Rachel watched the light go out in Michael’s bedroom, then after only a second or two, come on again. With an impatient sigh, she got out of her chair and began pacing. She wanted the confrontation with Jake over with. How long did it take to give a kid a T-shirt and explain a few basic points of etiquette? Stopping before a bed of daylilies, she pulled off a few dead blooms, her movements abrupt. It would take a long time if Michael opened up to Jake the way he’d seemed willing to do with her.
She tossed a handful of withered yellow blooms into the flower bed. He was probably full of horror stories from his travels across the country. As shocked as she was at having Michael show up on her doorstep, she couldn’t help but admire him for having the grit to undertake such a quest. Six weeks of searching for a father who was a total stranger living twelve hundred miles away couldn’t have been easy. Nor homelessness. Fortunately for Michael, there had been a happy ending. For Scotty…
Her thoughts scattered with the sound of the patio door opening.
Spotting her in the shadows, Jake closed the door softly. “Michael wanted me to thank you.”
“Whatever for?” she said coolly.
“For taking him in, I suppose,” Jake said, wearily rubbing a hand over his face. “For giving him the first square meal he’s had in six weeks. For treating him decently when you could have refused even to speak to him. He’s well aware that his appearance is a shock.”
“None of this is his fault.”
Jake dropped down in the chair she had just vacated. “I’m happy to hear you say that.”
“I’ll bet you are.” With a hard twist of her wrist, she snapped a flower from its stem.
For a long moment, he studied her rigid back. When he spoke, it was in a soft, almost defeated tone. “Okay, Rachel, let’s get it over with.”
She whirled to face him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She kept her voice low, but its very softness underlined her rage and sense of betrayal. “You’d like it if we could have a simple shouting match, just say everything there is to say about what you’ve done and then go on as if nothing’s changed. Well, you can just think again, Jake! A few questions and answers aren’t going to make everything peachy. Whether you think so or not, everything is changed. You were unfaithful. You cheated. You—”
“It was fifteen years ago, Rachel! I’ve already said I was wrong. I made a mistake. We need to—”
“Carry on?” Her tone was heavy with sarcasm.
He drew in a deep breath before lifting his eyes to hers. “I know that’s not possible.” He reached over and pulled another chair close. “Come over here and let’s try to sort this out.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she tossed the flower away and sat down.
“I told him I’d get him enrolled in school tomorrow.”
“He needs clothes, Jake. If those rags he wore today are the best he has, then you’d better take him shopping first and then see about enrolling him in school.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jake agreed with a sigh. He looked at Rachel. “What do you think, a couple of pairs of jeans and some shirts?” Suddenly he got out of the chair. “I don’t know what kind of stuff fourteen-year-olds wear nowadays! The only thing I’m sure about is sneakers. I haven’t seen a kid in years wearing a real pair of shoes.”
“Clothes are the least of it. It’ll take more than a spiffy wardrobe to make Michael fit in.”
He glanced at her. “What does that mean?”
“You saw him at the dinner table. He didn’t think to wash up. He ate with his elbow propped on the table. He wouldn’t have used his napkin if I hadn’t said something.” She stared off in the distance, her expression stony. “His manners are deplorable.”
“Only because he hasn’t had the advantages other kids have.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s your problem.”
“I don’t see it as a problem, Rachel.” Jake struggled to control his temper. “Manners can be taught. He’s a good kid, he’s got a good heart. And he’s my son. Hell, I feel lucky that he managed to find me.”
“Congratulations, then.” Rachel stood up abruptly. “I’m going in. You know where the extra linens are.”
Jake got reluctantly to his feet. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
She looked at him. “Does it really matter?”
“Of course, it matters, Rachel! I don’t want this to destroy us.” The look he gave her was bleak. “We’ve already lost so much. We can work this out, but we both have to make the effort.”
At the door, she stopped with her hand on the knob. “That’s just it, Jake. I’m not sure there is anything left.” She opened the door. “I’m sorry, but right now that’s the way I feel.”
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN RACHEL WENT into the kitchen the next morning, the smell of coffee was strong, but there was no sign of Jake or Michael. Going to the cabinet, she took down a cup, glancing at the clock. Six forty-five. Jake sometimes went in to work early, but hardly ever at this hour.
Her gaze strayed toward the hall and Michael’s room, where the door stood open. Taking her coffee, she headed that way. Except for a slightly rumpled look to the spread, his bed was empty. No discarded socks lay on the floor, no articles from emptied pockets littered any surface. There was no sign that anyone had spent the night there. Was he gone? Had Jake changed his mind, decided to take him someplace else? Feeling faintly anxious, she pulled the top drawer open. Inside, neatly arranged, were his meager belongings. She straightened thoughtfully. So he hadn’t gone away like a bad dream with the coming of daylight.
And Scotty was still gone.
Lying alone in bed last night, one thing had suddenly become clear to Rachel. She had believed that nothing could hurt her again, that nothing could touch her emotions, because with Scotty’s disappearance, her ability to feel anything had simply gone away. Wrong. So wrong.
Jake’s infidelity hurt.
The fact that it had happened fifteen years ago and that they’d been having some really tough times meant nothing. All night long she’d wrestled with her tangled emotions. Underneath the anger, the betrayal, the seething need to pay him back in some way lurked the inescapable truth: she was hurt. She was crushed to discover that her mate had been unfaithful. Now all that remained was to decide what to do about it.
She turned on her heel and walked quickly to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet, she stared blindly at the array of breakfast food, telling herself that it didn’t matter that Jake and Michael had left without a word to her. This was the way she wanted it. She was reaching for a box of cereal when the back door opened with a clatter and Jake and Michael came in.
They were laughing but sobered quickly when they spotte
d Rachel. Both of them. She plunked the cereal box on the counter and jerked a drawer open in search of a spoon. What was she, she thought with irritation, the Wicked Witch of the West? She stalked to the refrigerator.
“Would anybody like some juice?” she asked, taking out the carton. So far, except for that one quick glance, she’d avoided looking at either of them.
“Good morning,” Jake said quietly.
“Morning,” she replied, focusing just beyond his shoulder. Against her will, her gaze settled on Michael, who gave her a quick, shy smile. He wore the same tattered jeans from yesterday and the same worn-out sneakers. Only his T-shirt was different. It had probably once been navy blue, but was now faded to a soft, almost gray hue, the shade of his eyes. The shade of Jake’s eyes. She slammed the refrigerator door.
“We’ve been at the boathouse,” Jake told her, “checking the Pelican’s battery and gas level. Mike and I might take her out today if I can manage to get away from work at a reasonable hour.”
Rachel gave him a sharp look. For the past three months, Jake’s workdays had stretched to twelve and fourteen hours. On top of his regular responsibilities, he’d devoted a lot of time to the search for Scotty. In spite of his efforts, not a single substantial lead had surfaced. It was as though Scotty had just dropped off the face of the earth.
“If something surfaces that I should know about, they can contact me,” Jake said, reading her thoughts.
“Are you still planning to shop for clothes?” she asked.
“Yeah. I thought I’d take Mike in to the office with me and then when the mall opens, we’ll run over and get what he needs.” The look he and Michael exchanged expressed the universal male reluctance for shopping. “After that, enrolling in a strange school will be a piece of cake, huh, Mike?”
Michael just grinned.
“What time does the mall open, Rachel?”
“Nine,” she said curtly, resentful of the quick camaraderie that was developing between them without knowing quite why. As though removed from the scene and watching her own behavior, Rachel knew she was acting horrible, but she didn’t seem to be able to control herself. Spending the night apart from Jake had done nothing to cool her anger or to reduce her sense of betrayal. It had only given her time to recognize her hurt.