Father to Be (12 page)

“You don’t know
nothin
’.”

“I live with my aunt and uncle. Do you think that’s just for fun? Because I
want
to?”

For a long time he stared at her, then slowly he started walking again. This time she could keep up easier. At the corner he turned right, and she followed. They were passing their principal’s house when he asked as if he didn’t really want to know, “Where’s your parents?”

“My dad left when I was a baby. I don’t even remember him.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s in Boston.”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

She sneaked a look at him. He was staring at the ground, as though he had to see exactly where he was walking or something bad might happen. After taking a deep breath, she told him something she’d never told anyone before. Not that a lot of people in town didn’t know, but
she’d
never told. “My mom’s an alcoholic and a drug addict. She’s been in rehab a bunch of times, and in jail. She doesn’t want us—at least, not as much as she wants to have fun.”

The words made her stomach hurt. Sometimes it was easier to not think about her mother, to pretend that it was just her, the kids, and Aunt Emilie and Uncle Nathan. Sometimes—the sad times—she couldn’t help but think about her mom and wonder why she didn’t love them more. What could they do to make her want them?

Aunt Emilie said they couldn’t
make
Berry do anything.
She said it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t made their mom drink and use drugs, and they couldn’t make her stop. Dr. J.D. said she had to want to change, had to want it for herself, or it would never happen. Alanna didn’t understand why she couldn’t want it for
them
. Why couldn’t she love them more than she loved the alcohol and drugs?

“My dad
wants
us,” Caleb insisted. “Our mother doesn’t, but that don’t matter, ’cause he does. He wants us a lot.”

“Where did your mother go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

She wondered if he really didn’t care. No matter how mad she got at her mother for not wanting them she still loved her and worried about her. She didn’t believe there could ever be a time when she didn’t care. Maybe Caleb was just lying to hide his hurt that his mom had left them.

“Don’t you have any other family?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to have grandparents, or maybe aunts or uncles or cousins. Don’t you remember anybody?”

As they turned right at the next corner, he shook his head.

“Didn’t your mom and dad ever talk about anybody?”

He shook his head again.

“Didn’t they have any pictures or letters or an address book?”

“There’s a box of pictures. I found ’em when my dad didn’t come home. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know the people in ’em.”

“But maybe they’re clues. Maybe Uncle Nathan could find out who they are. He’s a good cop. He can find anybody. Let’s ask Dr. J.D. to take us out to your house to get the pictures—”

“I’m not asking him anything.” Caleb sounded mad again and hateful. It made Alanna lose hope and made her
sad too, ’cause she liked Dr. J.D. He was one of her most favorite grown-ups in all of Bethlehem.

They turned toward Miss Corinna’s house and walked in silence until she saw Uncle Nathan and Dr. J.D. standing in the yard, talking. Stubbornly, she said, “Well,
I’ll
ask him if you’re afraid to.”

“I’m
not
afraid! I
hate
him! He’s stupid and mean and he doesn’t like us and I don’t like him and I don’t like
you
.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stomped off to the glider, dragged it around to the other side of the tree, and sat down hard enough to make the metal clang.

Tears filling her eyes, Alanna followed him. Even though she stood right in front of him, he wouldn’t look at her, but she didn’t care. “You know what, Caleb Brown? I don’t like you either. I just feel sorry for you.”

He looked up then, but she ran for the house, slamming the screen door behind her, racing upstairs to the canopied bed, where she slept when she stayed over. She knew someone would check on her—Aunt Emilie or Uncle Nathan, maybe Dr. J.D. or one of the sisters. She wasn’t expecting Josie.

Her younger sister crawled into bed behind her, leaning on one elbow, patting Alanna’s shoulder with her free hand. “Caleb Brown’s trouble. Aunt Emilie said so.”

Alanna sniffled. “She said
troubled
, Josie. There’s a difference. Someone who’s trouble is always causing problems. Someone who’s troubled already has a lot of problems.”

“Then Caleb’s both. But I like the others. I could beat up Jacob. I could beat up Noah with only one hand. He’s only one year younger than me, but he’s
little
. But I won’t hurt ’em. They’re kinda nice kids.” Josie leaned over, her eyes gleaming. “You and me together could beat up Caleb. Want to?”

“We’re not going to beat up anyone.” Alanna rolled
onto her back, and Josie snuggled closer, using Alanna’s shoulder for a pillow. “We’ve got to be nice to them.”

“ ’Cause their mama and daddy ’bandoned them?”

“Because Aunt Emilie taught us to be nice to everyone.”

“You wasn’t nice. You told Caleb you don’t like him.”

Alanna’s face got hot. “I shouldn’t have said it. And I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know why not. There’s an awful lot there to not like. Even his own mama and daddy don’t like—”

“Don’t say that! It’s not true!”

“But they left ’em.”

“Our mama left us, but it didn’t have anything to do with not liking us, did it?”

Josie glared at her. “Mama loves us!”

“Well, Caleb’s mama loves him too—or, at least, his daddy does. He’s gonna come back.”

“And our mama’s gonna come back someday. She’s gonna come to Bethlehem, and we’re all gonna live together—just you and me and her and Brendan and Mikey and Aunt Emilie and Uncle Nathan. Boy, that’s a lot of people for our house. Maybe we can borrow the house across the street—you know, the one where we used to live. Or maybe we can build a house up on the mountain like Dr. J.D.’s doing. Maybe we could be neighbors with him and—” Josie twisted around to look at her. “Hey, are you done being about ready to cry? ’cause if you are, dinner’s ready. If you aren’t, Aunt Emilie’s gonna come up.”

“I’m done,” Alanna said. Later, when she had to apologize to Caleb, she might start all over again, but she was all right.

For now.

C
aleb sprawled in the glider, staring at the street, where cars passed once in a while, and wished he were home. He wished he were anywhere but there, wished he didn’t even exist. He’d never been as miserable as he was then, and it was all Grayson’s fault. If he hadn’t said Caleb’s dad had lied, Caleb never would have had to prove him wrong and he wouldn’t have gone for that walk and Alanna wouldn’t have gone with him and she wouldn’t have said what she did.

I don’t like you either. I just feel sorry for you
. Of course, he’d said he didn’t like her first, but he’d just been mad. He didn’t mean it.
She
did. He’d always known anyway that she was nice to him only ’cause she felt sorry for him. But it was different knowing something in your gut and being told so flat out to your face. Like knowing Grayson really didn’t want them. Knowing Alanna only pitied him.

Well, he didn’t need either one of them. He’d gotten along just fine without them. They could both go to hell. He didn’t care.

Behind him the screen door opened and closed. Someone had come out once to tell everyone dinner was ready, and again to ask him if he was going to eat. He hoped this was ol’ dumb Alanna going home with her family, or dumb Grayson come to make them walk to his house. But it was one of the old ladies—Miss Agatha—and she sat down at the other end of the glider. She set a plate between them, then sighed. “Look at the weeds in that flower bed. Sometimes I think all my hard work and fertilizer does them more good than my flowers.”

The food on the plate smelled good enough to make his mouth water. There was a thick slice of turkey, some mashed potatoes and gravy, a piece of bread with butter and honey, and some green beans. Lunch—soup and sandwiches—seemed a long time ago. His growling stomach
said it was past time for supper, but he didn’t reach for the food. He’d been hungrier than this before. He could wait.

“I understand your father is a farmer. Is making things grow in your blood?”

He stared hard at the flowers so he wouldn’t see the plate beside him. “I had a vegetable garden.”

“Really? What did you grow?”

“Tomatoes. Zucchini. Beans.” The green beans on the plate were cut in slanted pieces and seasoned with butter and pepper and little pieces of bacon. His dad had taught him how to cook them like that, with chunks of new potatoes that he brought home from the store.

“Ah, zucchini. Plant one zucchini, feed the nation.” She laughed, then scooted the plate closer to him. “These beans are out of last year’s garden. What do you think?”

He swallowed hard, then rubbed his stomach as it growled again. While she waited, he picked up the fork, speared one bean, and chewed it. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, you can’t tell from one little piece of one bean. Try a couple. Get a taste for them.”

He let himself be coaxed only because he was hungry and she wasn’t Grayson or Alanna or the welfare lady. When the green beans were gone, he started on the potatoes, then the bread, then polished off the turkey.

Miss Agatha didn’t say anything about him finally eating. Instead, she pointed toward the flower beds. “Perhaps on the days you’re over here, you could help an old woman with her garden.”

“We don’t need to stay over here.”

“No, you probably don’t. You appear quite capable. But it’ll be good for you to have a break from all your responsibilities.”

“I don’t
need
a break.”

“Of course you do. Everyone needs a break at times.”

Was that what she thought his dad was doing? “My
dad’s not taking a break,” he said stiffly. “He’s got a job, and he’s working really hard to save the money to bring us there to live. He probably has to work every day, even weekends, so he can save money quicker and come back sooner. He’ll take a day off real soon and come get us.”

She gave him a look that said maybe she believed what he said, but her question said she didn’t. “If that’s the case, Caleb, why hasn’t he called?”

“We don’t have no telephone. What do you expect him to do—call some stranger and say, ‘Hey, go tell my kids that I left alone that this is where I am and this is when I’ll be back’?”

“Couldn’t he write you a letter?”

“He could, but we don’t never get no mail. We don’t even check the mailbox.” They didn’t get any bills, not since the electric was shut off months ago for not paying, and it wasn’t like his mother was ever gonna write.

But what if his father did write? What if he knew that was the only way to get in touch with them without letting the cops know they were living alone? What if there was a letter out there in the mailbox right now, if their dad was somewhere waiting to hear from them before he came to get them?

Excited over the possibility, he jumped to his feet. He needed to tell the kids, but then they’d want to go with him and would slow him down. Better that he wait until he had their dad’s letters in his hand before he surprised them. “Tell—” Tell who what? Shaking his head, he said, “Thanks for dinner,” then took off down the sidewalk. Miss Agatha called his name twice, but he didn’t look back. He just ran faster.

“I
’m so sorry, J.D.,” Miss Agatha said as she rummaged in her handbag for the car keys. “I was trying to point out that his father could have contacted him if he’d really wanted to. I certainly never intended to give him false encouragement.”

“It’s all right, Miss Agatha. Caleb hears what he wants to hear.” She held out the keys, and J.D. all but snatched them from her hand. “The other kids—”

“We’ll take care of them. You go on now and find the boy.”

He was halfway to the driveway when Kelsey caught up with him. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s not as if he’s lost or run away. He knows exactly where he’s going. So do we.”