Child on His Doorstep

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “I was supposed to be watching him. I’m his nanny.” Samantha scooted closer to Corbin so that she could run a hand over Mikey’s hair. He slept, thumb in mouth, his cheeks ruddy, and she shot up another prayer of thanks that he was safely home. “I feel terrible that I let him out of my sight.”

  Corbin put his hand over hers, a featherlight touch concealed from the others by the darkness and by the angle of Mikey’s body. “It was my fault. Once I get home from work, I’m on duty. I fell short.”

  “Believe me, man, we all fall short,” Reese said. “Gabby and I lost Izzy when we went up to Lake Erie. It was only for a few minutes, but...”

  “Every possible disaster that could happen flashes in front of your eyes,” Gabby finished for him.

  “That’s exactly it,” Samantha said. “The whole time we were searching, I kept picturing...awful stuff.” She shivered, remembering.

  “Nobody has this parenting thing down pat,” Sheniqua contributed. “I see it in my practice all the time. Somebody didn’t keep a close enough eye on their kids, and one of them gets burned, or falls off a swing or crashes their bike. And those are the happy cases.” She bit her lip and looked at the ground, obviously remembering some situations that hadn’t turned out so well.

  They were all silent, then, no doubt thinking of how wrong everything could have gone this afternoon.

  “Anyway,” Sheniqua said, “the parents or caregivers always blame themselves, and in a perfect world, sure, they’d watch their kids every single second. Except if they did that, the kids would grow up neurotic and fearful.” She shrugged, raising her hands. “All we can do is our best, and put the rest in God’s hands.”

  “Amen,” Samantha said fervently.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Corbin said, “I’m happy that we adopted Boomer. Every muddy paw print and late-night bathroom break is totally worth it.” He reached down to put a hand on the big dog’s head.

  “He doesn’t want to leave Mikey’s side, even now,” Gabby said, leaning over to pat Boomer, too. “Good boy, aren’t you?”

  The dog shifted and let out a sigh, his eyes opening briefly and then closing again.

  “I have to admit,” Corbin said, “I thought the only time dogs stuck by kids like that was on TV. But Boomer definitely kept track of Mikey and stayed by him.”

  “Kept him warm, I guess,” Reese said.

  “And comforted.” Samantha couldn’t imagine how much more terrified Mikey would have been if the dog hadn’t been there. As it was, the little boy had mostly seemed annoyed that Boomer had left him for a few minutes, which it seemed he’d done only when he’d realized Samantha and Corbin were close by. “He led us right to him. Kept barking until we came. Such a sweetheart.”

  Everyone was looking at the dog, his black fur rendering him barely visible in the fire’s dim light. Boomer started panting, his pink tongue hanging out.

  “There’s a steak in his future,” Corbin promised.

  “Honestly, I think he was happy with the hamburger you gave him tonight,” Samantha teased. “He ate it a lot faster than Mikey ate his.”

  Corbin didn’t answer, but he gave her a smile that warmed her heart.

  Hannah brought out her ukulele, apparently always at the ready in her car, and strummed gently. The stars made a bright, jewel-like canopy overhead. And Samantha felt like she’d never been this at home, this connected, in her life.

  Until her phone buzzed. Who could it be, when almost everyone she cared about was right here around this fire?

  She looked at the lock screen. Cheryl.

  She was sitting right beside Corbin, and she quickly turned the phone so he couldn’t see it. Had he noticed the gesture? She didn’t dare look at him to find out.

  She wanted to decline the call, but she was afraid to, afraid that Cheryl would keep calling. She excused herself and walked over to the edge of the yard. “Hello?”

  “What happened to my son?” Cheryl sounded hysterical.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard he was lost!”

  Samantha’s heart rate sped up. “He’s fine now, and how did you find that out?”

  “I was driving by,” the older woman admitted. “I just wanted to catch a glimpse of him, you know? Paul has an old friend visiting us here, so I could get away.”

  “If you’re doing things like that... Cheryl, don’t you think we’d better tell Corbin the truth?” Even as she said it, her heart sank. Corbin had come to mean so much to her. If he learned after all this time that she and Cheryl knew each other and had gone behind his back to set this up, he’d be outraged.

  “No, no. I just...it’s hard, ya know?” And now Samantha heard the slurring in Cheryl’s voice.

  “Of course it’s hard, but...look, he’s fine. Have you been drinking?” she asked bluntly.

  “No!” Cheryl’s voice was indignant, and that made Samantha’s heart sink even more, because she recognized the denial of an alcoholic in active disease.

  Recognized it, because she’d been there herself.

  And if Cheryl was drunk enough to lie, there was no point talking to her, not tonight. She’d call her tomorrow and urge her to get in touch with her AA sponsor right away.

  “Look, Mikey’s safe and fine. Please don’t drive anymore tonight, okay?”

  “I could, but I won’t,” Cheryl said. “Promise.”

  “Good. I have to go.” Over Cheryl’s protests, she ended the call and stood looking at the circle of dear people around the fire.

  She cared about them deeply. Wanted to be a part of the group, of the town.

  But was that going to be possible, with the secrets she was keeping pulling her down?

  * * *

  Corbin finally handed off Mikey to Gabby’s grandmother to hold. He got a long stick and stood poking at the fire and relishing the company of his friends.

  Being here with a group of people who’d unquestioningly jumped in to help him, and then stuck around because they wanted to be here...all of it was new to him. Sure, he had friends at the university, but they mostly talked science and didn’t get together just to hang out. And he and Reese were close friends, but as busy as they both were, their chances to spend time together were limited.

  This was good, if unfamiliar: he felt like he was a part of the group.

  And the fact that Samantha was here, hosting their friends right beside him—that was both really unfamiliar, and really good.

  Finally, Corbin took Mikey inside and tucked him into bed. When he came back out, Gabby and Reese stood up and scooped up Izzy. “We should get home. It’s late.”

  “You’re right.” Hannah stood up, too.

  Sheniqua stretched and stood, and everyone started collecting the dishes they’d brought and shaking hands and embracing each other. Corbin wasn’t a big hugger, but there was no other way to express the gratitude he felt for how they’d all helped him find Mikey.

  To his surprise, being affectionate didn’t seem awkward at all, and he felt good afterward. Maybe he could be warmer with people than he’d thought. Maybe having Mikey here had pushed that along.

  Or maybe it had something to do with Samantha.

  She was thanking people for their help right alongside him. And then everyone was gone and it was just the two of them standing there. She looked at him and caught his eye, and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms. He’d hugged everyone else, after all.

  Holding Samantha was something completely different, though, he knew that. He shouldn’t. But his emotions felt a lot stronger than his intellect tonight.

  Before he could reach for her, she turned away. “Guess we should clean up,” she said briskly, and started carrying tongs and bags of leftover buns and dirty dishes into the kitchen.

  So much for getting closer. He suppressed a sigh and started to help he
r clean up.

  Between them, they made quick work of carrying everything inside and setting the yard to rights. On their last trip outside, Corbin paused, wanting to drink it all in for just a moment longer: the smell of wood smoke, the buzz of cicadas and the bright tapestry of stars.

  Samantha came to stand beside him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. “Do you know the names of the constellations?” she asked.

  “I know some,” he said, welcoming the chance to be businesslike. “There’s Ursa Major. He was my favorite as a kid, because he was easy to find and plus...well, he’s a giant bear. What kid doesn’t like a giant bear?”

  She smiled, at the same time shaking her head. “People always say constellations are easy to find and I don’t get it. There are, like, a million stars in the sky tonight. How am I supposed to know which ones to put together and make a bear?”

  “It’s not that hard,” he said, laughing a little. “Do you recognize the Big Dipper?”

  “It’s there, right?” She pointed upward.

  “Uh-huh. The handle of the dipper is the bear’s tail, and the dipper part is the back half of his body.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, trace down from the handle side of the dipper. The two bright stars right below it are basically his feet.” He leaned closer to her and pointed so that she could look along his arm. “See?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She sounded breathless.

  Her voice and the warmth of her made it hard to concentrate. “If you look...past...the dipper,” he said, then paused to collect his thoughts. “Look past the dipper to the three bright stars, almost in a triangle. That’s his head.”

  “I see them!” She glanced over at him and smiled, then looked back up. “And the bright ones below that are his front legs, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ve never been able to see the constellations when people pointed at the sky before. That’s so cool!”

  Corbin liked nothing better than an enthusiastic student, so he pointed out several more constellations, showing her easy ways to recognize them and telling her a little about the stories behind them. Finally, he realized he had gone on a little long. “Sorry,” he said. “Occupational hazard. I’m always a professor.”

  “I like that you’re a professor,” she said shyly. “I like to learn.”

  The starlight made her face glow as she looked up at him, and the urge to pull her to him was strong. But this was what had gotten them into trouble before. “I better put out the fire,” he said.

  “Right. I’ll get those dishes washed.”

  “You don’t have to do the dishes. You’re not working.”

  She lifted a finger to his lips, barely touching them. “Shh,” she said. “You’re right, I’m not working. I’m just being a friend.”

  He’d never felt anything as soft and delicate as that touch, and it paralyzed him. Never before had his brain and his body been so truly at war. He didn’t think he was going to be able to stop himself. His hand went toward hers, intent on keeping her finger right where it was.

  He wasn’t fast enough, though. She pulled her hand away, gave him a little half smile and turned and walked toward the house.

  He was so stunned by the intensity of his feeling that he just stood there staring after her, blood pounding in his veins. She was so beautiful, so caring, so loveable. Every new facet of her that he discovered intrigued him more.

  Finally, he filled a bucket of water and threw it on the fire, hearing the hiss, watching the steam and then poking around with a stick to make sure there were no remaining hot coals.

  He couldn’t cool his own warm feelings nearly so easily. So he stood outside taking deep breaths and looking at the stars and settling himself before he went in.

  She was at the sink rinsing and drying dishes, and as he came up behind her, any effort he’d made to cool himself down was instantly gone.

  Her skin was so delicate that he could see a blue vein pulsing in her throat. Her lips were full and slightly parted.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. That was how he noticed that her breathing quickened a little under his gaze. She was affected by him, whether she knew it or not, and that made his heart swell with happiness.

  At the same time, he felt a huge sense of responsibility.

  His own urges were strong, stronger than he ever felt before in his life. If she was feeling something similar, it was even more dangerous.

  Because impulsively giving in to those feelings of attraction was what had gotten them in trouble last time, caused a rift between them that had affected their friendship, and more importantly, had affected Mikey. What they needed to do was to talk, not get physical.

  So he stepped away from her and leaned back against the counter. “Look, I’m sorry I was distant before. That was just me being foolish.”

  She didn’t ask what he was talking about; she obviously knew. “What was going on?”

  He debated finding some intellectual way to say it, but he wasn’t thinking straight enough. “I got turned upside down by that kiss.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She glanced at him and then turned to put a stack of plates away.

  “It was intense.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Now that he had brought up the topic, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to go with it. For him to go into the fact that he couldn’t get involved with her because she was an alcoholic... Suddenly, that felt judgmental and mean and not how he wanted to talk to her.

  Maybe it wasn’t how he wanted to be with her, either, but he wasn’t ready to make that alteration to his long-held set of values about who he could get involved with. And until he did, he obviously needed to keep a lid on his feelings.

  So he talked about something they would probably agree on. “I was never so scared in my life as when Mikey was lost.”

  “Me, either. It was awful.”

  He paused, then admitted, “I just don’t know if I’m cut out for taking care of a kid.”

  Her head jerked around to face him. “You’re not thinking of sending him back to your mom, are you?”

  Was he? He shook his head slowly, letting out a sigh. “No. I feel like I screwed up badly, but I still think he’s safer with me than with her.”

  She let the water out of the sink, not looking at him now. “I think you’re doing a great job,” she said. “It was just as much my fault as yours. And didn’t you listen to what everyone else said? Parenting is a challenge and you can’t help but screw up sometimes.”

  “I guess.” He wasn’t used to doing things poorly or in a half-baked way. He was used to working at a task until he could become an expert. That had been a great approach in his career, where hard work and long hours at the lab had helped him succeed, becoming one of the youngest faculty members the university had ever hired.

  He wasn’t arrogant about that; he knew that whatever smarts he had were a gift from God, that other people were smarter and that he’d been incredibly fortunate in getting fellowships and teaching assistant jobs to pay for his graduate work. That was what had allowed him to reach a position of expertise in his field.

  But it seemed that nobody was an expert when it came to raising kids, not really.

  “Mikey can be a handful, just like any other child,” she said.

  “He is, but I sure love him,” Corbin said. It was the first time he had articulated that, and he realized it was completely true. He loved his little brother as if the boy were his own son.

  “I love him, too,” she said, almost offhandedly.

  She just continued wiping down the counters, not acting like she had said anything momentous, but her words blew Corbin away. She had an amazing ability to love. Mikey wasn’t her child, nor her blood, but she felt for him as if he were.

  He got the vacuum cleaner and ra
n it over the kitchen floor, cleaning up dog hair and crumbs, turning it off quickly when it sucked up a little plastic spoon, then extracting it and starting it up again.

  If he loved his little brother despite the boy’s issues and whining and toddler misbehavior, could it be that he could love another adult who had issues, too? He was definitely starting to care a lot for Samantha. Was he growing, becoming more flexible and forgiving?

  He didn’t know if he could change that much. He’d been holding himself—and others—to a strict, high standard for a long time. It was how he’d gotten as far as he had after his rough beginning.

  Corbin wanted to continue caring for his brother, especially given the alternative, but the fact that Mikey had gotten lost had shaken him. He didn’t know if he was good enough to do the job.

  He turned off the vacuum cleaner and put it away. Samantha’s expression of support soothed his insecurities. He wanted love and acceptance, just like anyone else. And there was a tiny spark inside him that was starting to burn, a spark that wondered if he could maybe fall in love and be loved, even with a recovering alcoholic.

  Samantha was wiping her hands on the dish towel. “Everything is cleaned up,” she said, “and it’s late.”

  Corbin looked at the clock and was surprised to see that it was midnight.

  He didn’t want to end this conversation, didn’t want to go to bed alone, but he knew he couldn’t give in to his desire to get closer to Samantha, not until he had figured things out. “I don’t think I can sleep,” he admitted to her. “I might watch some TV.” He strolled out of the kitchen and into the living room, intent on finding some scientific show that could distract him from his confusing feelings.

  She followed along. “I’m too keyed up to sleep, too.”

  Their eyes met, held, and just like that, something sparked in the air between them. They both looked away.

  “Well. Guess I’ll go read my book.” She turned toward the stairs.

  “Do that if you want to,” he said. He sat down on the couch and put his arm across the back of it. “Or, you could come watch a movie with me.”