Child on His Doorstep

by Lee Tobin McClain

  She looked at him, at his dear, confused face, a face she had come to care so deeply for. But she had to take care of herself, respect herself. She drew herself up and willed herself to speak clearly, without wavering. “I don’t think I can handle another talk with you. But if you’d like to carry my boxes out to the car, you can certainly do that.”

  He looked a little surprised, and she realized that she wasn’t usually quite so directive with him. Even through her pain, that part felt a little good. She spun and went back into the kitchen to check on Mikey, and when she returned, Corbin was coming back into the house and the box she had spilled was gone. He headed toward the stairs. So it looked like he was going to take her at her word and help her move her boxes.

  Was that because he respected her, or because he wanted her out?

  Before she could figure out an answer to that question, her phone buzzed, an unfamiliar number. She could have let it go to voicemail, but for some reason she clicked on the call. “Hello?”

  “Samantha. It’s Catherine Markowski.”

  “Hi,” she said, and sat down abruptly on the couch. I don’t think I can handle this, not today. But then again, what choice did she have? There was no use putting off this latest rejection. Best to get it over with.

  There was a short silence, and Samantha opened her mouth to fill it, to spare Mrs. Markowski the difficulty of telling Samantha she’d done a terrible job on the parade. But she couldn’t muster the energy to help the woman out. So she just waited.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking,” Mrs. Markowski said, “and I decided you are actually just the person to juggle all the different demands that a new program for young children will involve.”

  Samantha waited for the punch line, but there was just another moment’s silence. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I’d like to offer you the job.”

  Samantha flopped back against the couch. “You want to offer me the job,” she repeated without really being able to process the words.

  “Yes, dear, that’s right.”

  “You don’t mean you want me to start a program for kids at Rescue Haven.” Surely she had imagined what the other woman had said, or misunderstood.

  “I do want you to do that.”

  Corbin must have heard her last comment, because he came into the room holding two of her boxes and stood, listening.

  Still with those crazy nice muscles that weren’t what you would expect of a professor. And why was she noticing that, even now?

  “What do you think?” Mrs. Markowski asked briskly. “Any questions?”

  “Um... Can I ask why? I thought you were upset about how everything went at the parade.”

  “I was, dear. But as I said, I’ve done some thinking. Starting a new program will require juggling a lot of different demands and responding to emergencies. That’s exactly what you managed to do on Saturday.”

  “Uh, thanks?” She leaned against the back of the couch. “Can you tell me more about what would be involved?”

  She raised an eyebrow at Corbin, who was openly eavesdropping, and he shook his head and carried the boxes outside.

  She listened as Mrs. Markowski explained her offer in more detail. Yes, she really did want Samantha to start the program, and the sooner the better. She named a salary for part-time, and another one for full-time, depending on whether Samantha wanted to keep working as a nanny or to make the Rescue Haven job her main source of income.

  The salary Corbin gave her was generous, but Mrs. Markowski’s offer was even more so. She’d be able to pay off her small amount of credit card debt, start an emergency fund, maybe even buy a new car.

  It was a dream come true. Except that, when she’d dreamed it, she’d imagined a loving man at her side here in Rescue Haven. Corbin, to be specific. She wasn’t sure when that had become part and parcel of her staying here, but it had, and his rejection of her had changed everything.

  He came back into the room with her last box just as Mrs. Markowski wound down.

  “I’m very grateful for your putting your confidence in me,” Samantha said. “But I’ll need some time to think about it.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Markowski said. “Of course, dear, but don’t wait too long.” In her voice was something like respect.

  They said goodbye and she clicked out of the call and stared directly in front of her. She didn’t want to look at Corbin, didn’t want anything he said to influence her decision.

  The thinking and praying she had been doing sat around her like a mantle.

  It didn’t matter what Mrs. Markowski thought. It didn’t matter what Corbin thought. What mattered was what God wanted her to do, because she was a child of God. She didn’t have to constantly apologize for herself and try to manage other people’s feelings.

  She was a child of God.

  It didn’t give her a feeling of exuberance. She was still sad, very sad, at the prospect of leaving Corbin and ultimately Mikey. But she was all right. It was well with her soul, as the old hymn said, or it would be.

  “She offered you the job?” Corbin asked.

  She looked at him. “Yes, she did.”

  “That’s great! I’m happy for you.” He took a step toward her.

  She hunched a little and turned away. He had hurt her too badly to come back in as a friend, even a seemingly supportive friend.

  And if she let him come to her, maybe even hug her, her heart would be broken all over again. “Thanks for loading my boxes, Corbin,” she said, keeping her voice formal. “I’ll be in touch about a schedule for Mikey’s care.”

  His face looked stricken. Maybe he wasn’t used to her standing up for herself. Well, he would figure out how to manage.

  She walked out of the house, got into her car and drove as far as the little park in town.

  There, she pulled into a parking space and broke down.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Corbin pulled up in front of his parents’ home in Buckeye Acres Mobile Estates, a feeling he’d had way too much lately washed over him again.

  Shame.

  He was a successful man with a house and a savings account and a good job. What did it say about him that his parents were living like this? That his little brother had grown up in a rusty trailer where the dumpster was overflowing with trash and broken glass littered the road alongside the house?

  There were plenty of nice trailer parks in the area. This wasn’t one of them.

  He made his way up the front walkway, nearly tripping over some overgrown bushes. He rapped on the tarnished screen door.

  Beating himself up was starting to be a familiar occupation of his. He was certainly doing it in relation to what he’d said and done to Samantha.

  For the past two days, she had cared for Mikey, but the exchange with Corbin had involved only a couple of polite, shallow sentences. When he tried to say more, to really talk to her, she turned away.

  He felt like a jerk. And since he couldn’t get through to Samantha, he had decided to go visit his mother and tell her that he had forgiven her.

  Now, noticing the rip in the screen, he wondered who really needed forgiving.

  When Cheryl opened the door and saw him, her mouth dropped open. She pressed a hand to it as tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Hi,” he said, feeling awkward.

  “What am I thinking? Come in, come in,” she said, opening the door wide.

  He had to stoop his head to walk through the doorway. As soon as he was inside, she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace he didn’t feel like he deserved.

  She took his hand and pulled him into the small living room. “Come in, sit down, I’ll make you some coffee.”

  The couch was covered with a throw, and when he sat down and sank into the saggy cushions, he understood why. There was another chair, a newer-looking recl
iner. Most likely, that was where his father sat. A small TV completed the furniture in the living room, which was a good thing, because there wasn’t room for much else.

  The place was clean, though. There were curtains at the windows that looked homemade and a colorful rug on the floor. Cheryl had made an effort.

  Restless, he stood and wandered into the back hallway.

  “Need to use the bathroom?” Cheryl’s voice behind him was anxious. “The door doesn’t close real well, but if you put that little stack of books in front of it, that will hold it.”

  “I was just looking around. I shouldn’t have done it without your permission.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She waved a hand. “You’re family. Make yourself at home.”

  “If you have a toolbox, I can fix that door for you,” he said.

  “Really? You’d do that?” She hurried off toward the kitchen and came back with a couple of screwdrivers, a hammer and a little box of nails. “Your dad would’ve fixed it, but he hasn’t been feeling well for a while now,” she said. “Will this stuff do? We don’t have a real toolbox. And you don’t have to fix it. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  She was talking so quickly that he realized she was nervous. He put a hand on her arm. “Mom. It’s okay. I should’ve come around before now to help you.” He knelt down and studied the lock mechanism on the door, then selected a screwdriver.

  Cheryl leaned against the wall in the hallway. “No,” she said, “I was a bad mother and I know it.”

  Corbin had come here to forgive her, but saying that explicitly just now didn’t seem quite right. “Water under the bridge,” he said as he readjusted the mechanism and doorknob, tightened the screws. “You seem to be doing a lot better now.”

  “I wish I could say that I am,” she said, “but truthfully, I’ve been having a hard time staying away from the liquor store.”

  He looked at her, curious. She didn’t seem to have been drinking already this morning.

  “It’s just so hard, with Mikey gone and your father at that rehab center. I know it’s wrong, but sometimes a drink helps dampen down the feelings.”

  He nodded, stood and demonstrated that the door mechanism was fixed. “Do you need to call your sponsor?”

  She bit her lip. “I probably should.”

  “You do that,” he said, “and I’ll trim those bushes outside your door so they don’t trip you and Dad, when he comes home.” If he comes home.

  He left her scrolling through her phone and went outside, where he found some clippers in the little storage box at the end of the trailer.

  You and Dad. Mom and Dad. It felt surprisingly good to say. They weren’t perfect; in fact, they were a mess. But God specialized in messes. He, Corbin, was a mess, too. Just in a different way.

  There was a cool breeze, but sunshine warmed his back. He looked around the little lot thoughtfully. If the bushes and grass were trimmed, if he swept up the glass in the street in front, it would be a decent place for Mikey to come and visit.

  In fact, as he clipped, he came upon a little plastic push mower under one of the bushes, the kind designed to help a kid learn to walk.

  His throat tightened. Mikey had spent his first two years here. And Cheryl had done her best.

  A little later, after he’d tossed the branches he’d cut into the dumpster and swept up the glass, his mother came out. “Thank you for suggesting I make that call,” she said. “I’m better, but... I still hope you’ll take care of Mikey because I don’t trust myself.”

  “I will,” he said, patting her awkwardly on the back. “I’ll raise him up to adulthood if you need. But there’s no reason he shouldn’t come and visit you.”

  Her face lit up. “I’d love that better than anything,” she said. “Especially if you would bring him. My two sons.” Her voice broke on the last word, and then she sank down onto the porch steps and let her face drop into her hands and wept.

  Some things never changed. His mother was very emotional. He comforted her, awkwardly patting her back. Told her he loved her, because that was true despite everything. Promised he’d bring Mikey to see her real soon.

  Once she’d finally stopped crying, she went into the house for some tissues, came back out again, and sat beside him. “What about Samantha?” she asked.

  “What about her?” he asked, wary.

  “You like her, right?”

  “I do,” he said, “but...”

  She seemed to read his mind. Maybe it was a thing mothers did. “You know, she’s a lot further along in her recovery than I am. She never was anywhere near as bad as I was, drinking-wise. She helps other members all the time. I don’t think she’ll relapse, not like me.”

  He thought about that. “You’re probably right,” he said, and realized that he meant it.

  “And the whole thing of her pretending she didn’t know me, that we hadn’t set things up with you and Mikey... You need to know that she begged me to tell you the truth. Not just once, but a lot of times. I wouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Afraid, I guess. Afraid you’d turn around and dump Mikey into social services. You can be a little...” She hesitated.

  “Rigid? Judgmental?”

  She studied him, eyes clear. “Yes. Understandable, considering the way I raised you, or didn’t raise you. But I didn’t have a lot of confidence that you’d understand.” She patted his hand. “I just want you to know that the deception was more me than Samantha. And it was all for Mikey’s sake.”

  Any remaining anger he’d felt just floated away with her words, leaving him with a strong sense of regret. “Samantha isn’t speaking to me. Not after the things I said. I really hurt her.”

  His mother nodded. “People hurt each other. But that doesn’t mean you can’t pick up and start again. At least, I hope not.”

  So if he was forgiving his mother...and if she was forgiving him...then maybe... “I love her,” he blurted out, his face heating. “I’d like to marry her, but I’ve made a mess of the whole thing.”

  Cheryl nodded, thoughtfully, and they both sat for a few minutes, watching a bird flit from branch to branch. In the street, a little girl rode her trike in circles. Suddenly, his mother snapped her fingers. “What you need,” she said, “is a big fancy marriage proposal. And I have just the plan.”

  He tilted his head, looking at her, as he remembered something he hadn’t thought of in years: Cheryl was great at planning surprises and parties and events, at least when she was sober.

  “I’m not doing something in front of a bunch of people,” he warned her. “That’s not my style.” Besides, odds were at least fifty-fifty that Samantha would turn him down.

  “I get it,” his mother said. “We’ll make it suit your personality.”

  Corbin thought about it. If Cheryl had a plan, well, that was a lot more than Corbin had.

  “You’d help me like that?” he asked. “Even when I haven’t been the greatest son?”

  “You’re a terrific son,” she said, her easy forgiveness of his failings stunning him. “I’d be honored.” She patted him on the arm and ran inside for a memo pad and started talking and making lists.

  And as they worked together, he and his mother, Corbin felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

  * * *

  As Samantha parked her car in front of Corbin’s house on Friday night, emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  Corbin had texted her yesterday, asking if they could switch times: he’d care for Mikey during the day if she could come pick him up and take him for the evening.

  That had been convenient for Samantha, because it had given her a day to get started on planning the program for younger kids at Rescue Haven.

  But she had to wonder why Corbin had requested it. Did he have a date with someone else? Already?

&
nbsp; That shouldn’t matter. This was a chance to hang out with Mikey for an evening. She figured she’d take him back to Hannah’s house and feed him dinner, let him play a little bit outside, then get him into his pajamas. They’d cuddle up and watch a kids’ movie until Corbin came to pick him up.

  It sounded wonderful to her, and it didn’t matter that Corbin had been vague about what time he’d get there. It didn’t matter what Corbin was doing.

  If she told herself that often enough, maybe it would start to feel true.

  Looking at the house and yard, though, made her chest ache with nostalgia and regret. They had had something wonderful there for a little while.

  She got out of the car, and only then did she see Mikey, sitting on the porch by himself, carefully holding something in his lap.

  “Mikey!” she said as she hurried up the walkway. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  “Present for you,” he said. He glanced back into the house.

  That was when she saw that Corbin was standing just inside the screen door.

  She couldn’t quite face him, not yet. She sank down onto the steps beside Mikey. “What is it?”

  “Candy.” He thrust the bag into her hand.

  “Well, thank you.” For Mikey to share candy instead of eating it himself... She hugged him. “You’re a great kid.”

  Probably, soon, Corbin would find someone else to help care for him. Another nanny, which would be bad enough, or a girlfriend.

  That’s not your business.

  But still, it would be hard to face. She had agreed to stay in town long enough to get the program at Rescue Haven started, but she didn’t know if she would continue for the long term. Didn’t know if it would be too painful.

  When she didn’t open the gift bag right away, Mikey thrust it at her again and she peeked inside. It was one of those candy rings.

  She pulled it out and held it up in the sunlight. “Look how pretty it is! Thank you!”

  “Welcome,” he said, looking longingly at the candy, and she laughed and handed it to him.

  There was a sound behind them, dog claws on the screen. Boomer was trying to push his way out. Corbin scolded him and then slipped out, leaving the big dog inside.