Father to Be (27 page)

Lucie set the cakes, too heavy to hold for a lengthy conversation, on a nearby table. “About like that. Some of the kids openly made fun of him. Others kept their distance because he was different. He was defensive and wary and stayed away from just about everyone. Except Alanna. She tried to be friends with him, and, for the most part, he let her.”

Corinna’s gaze shifted to the other end of the table, where Alanna sat with her girlfriends. Corinna had overheard her directing Susan to sit by Caleb, but Kenny and his friends had beaten them to the seats. She wished Alanna had asked Caleb to join them, but she hadn’t, and now he sat looking miserable and angry, a misfit who understood too well that he didn’t belong.

“Well, I’d better get these cakes to the table over there before everyone stuffs themselves and I have to take them back home. I’d wind up eating them myself, and that’s the
last
thing my hips need.” Lucie reclaimed her cakes, and Corinna returned to the kitchen.

The church had bought a dishwasher a few years earlier, but she found it as easy to wash the dishes by hand in the double sinks. Besides, someone always came along to help, and she enjoyed the companionship.

The first someone to come along was Caleb. He scraped his leftovers off, then set the dishes on the counter beside her.

“Thank you, Caleb.”

For a moment he simply stood there, endearingly awkward. Then he asked, “Can I help?”

“It’s not necessary. But if you’d like to, I would enjoy your company. Would you rather wash or dry?”

“Wash.”

She moved to the second sink and began rinsing the dishes. Beside her, Caleb went to work with the scrubber.

“You didn’t have very pleasant company for lunch,” she commented.

“I don’t mind.”

“With you boys being in the same grade and likely to be in the same class next year, it’s a shame you’re not friends.”

“I don’t like them, and they don’t like me, so we’re even. I just ignore ’em.”

“That’s probably the best thing you can do with people like that.”

From the dining hall came the scraping of chairs and loud voices, followed by Lucie’s command. “Hey, you guys scoot those chairs back up to the table so no one trips, then take your dishes in the kitchen.”

“Aw, Miss Smith.” That was Kenny’s voice, and the first to chime in was his best friend, Garth. “That’s what the girls are here for.”

“Don’t ‘Aw, Miss Smith’ me. Do it now.” Lucie was using her best teacher’s voice, Corinna noted with a smile. She and Agatha had both retired from teaching years earlier, but they still relied quite often on that voice, because it brought results.

With much grumbling the boys—Kenny and Garth, and their usual cohorts Tim, Rob, and Matt—shuffled into the kitchen. Corinna hoped Caleb would dry his hands and pretend to be merely visiting with her while she worked, but he didn’t. With deliberate movements he added another stack of plates to the sink and began washing the top one.

“Look at Caleb,” Kenny said with a snicker. “Doin’
dishes. What a dummy. Ever’one knows boys don’t wash dishes. That’s girls’ work.”

“Hope you don’t get dishpan hands, Caleb,” Garth mocked.

“Hey, we thought you was allergic to soap and water, you know, since you come to school dirty all the time.” All the boys laughed, Kenny loudest of all.

“That is enough.” Corinna stared down all five boys. “Bring your dishes over here, then get out of this kitchen.”

The boys obeyed her one at a time, with Garth bringing up the end. “There’s no room for my plate. Here, Caleb.”

As Caleb turned to take the dish, Garth pretended to stumble and tipped the plate against Caleb’s chest. Bits of everything he’d eaten clung to Caleb’s shirt—potato salad, green beans, meat loaf, chocolate frosting, and strawberry-tinted whipped cream. “Oops,” Garth said coldly. “I tripped.”

“Hey, now you’re dirty again, like you’re used to,” Kenny taunted. “
And
you got something to snack on later if you get hungry.”

The other three boys backed away a few steps. Caleb stood stiffly, his face crimson, his thin body trembling. Corinna was so angry that she was practically shaking herself. Without bothering to dry her hands, she snatched Garth by the arm, then shook a finger at the other boys. “Get out of here right now. You and I are going to talk to your mother, Garth Nichols.”

She shooed the other boys ahead of them and all but dragged Garth from the kitchen, passing Alanna just inside the door. The girl looked as if she might cry. A glance back at Caleb showed that he might, too, if he weren’t too proud.

Corinna had a talk with Nora Nichols, who promptly went outside to deal with her son. Back in the kitchen she
found Agatha fussing over Caleb, cleaning his shirt with a damp cloth while Alanna silently dried dishes.

“They’re horrible children,” Agatha said huffily. “Their parents spoil them rotten, never offer them any consistent discipline, and then wonder why they behave so badly.”

“Let’s just get back to work,” Corinna said quietly. “Caleb, you needn’t wash dishes if you don’t want to.”

His words were clipped, his voice tightly controlled. “My dad says except for havin’ babies, there’s no such thing as women’s work and men’s work. A person does what he has to do.”

“Your dad is exactly right,” Agatha agreed.

They worked in an uncomfortably quiet atmosphere until only one load of dishes remained on the counter. “Caleb, would you mind taking this trash bag outside?” Corinna asked as she tied the top into neat knots. “The garbage cans are out this door, down the steps, and around the corner to the left.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Alanna set a serving platter down with more force than necessary. “I
hate
Kenny and Garth.”

“Hate what they did, dear, not them,” Corinna counseled.

“What they did is just part of who they are. They’re mean to everyone, but especially to kids who are … are …” She sputtered, trying to find the right word.

“Vulnerable.”

“Yeah, that, and I hate them!”

While Agatha calmed Alanna, Corinna went to work on the last dishes. After a few minutes, though, she dried her hands. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to see what’s taking Caleb so long.”

J
.D. was on his way out of the office to a staff meeting when the secretary flagged him down. “Yes, Miss Corinna, he’s right here,” she said into the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear. “Hang on one second.”

He took the phone with a glance at his watch. Staff meetings at Bethlehem Memorial were pretty informal, but, barring emergencies, he generally tried to show up on time. Once this one was over, he was taking the rest of the afternoon off. He was planning to pick up dinner at Harry’s and the kids at the Winchesters’, then head out to the house for a good four or five hours of work. He might even decide, somewhere along the way, to invite Kelsey along.

“Miss Corinna, what can I do for you?” he asked with a smile. The smile faded as she spoke. When she finished, he said quietly, “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Thanks for calling me.” He handed the phone back to the secretary. “Call up to the meeting and tell them I’m not going to be able to make it today. I’ve got a problem with one of the kids.”

“Hope it’s not too serious,” she called as he walked away.

It took only a few minutes to make the drive from the hospital to the church, not nearly enough time for J.D. to calm down. He parked in the back lot, took a few deep breaths, then walked around the corner to the kitchen door.

On one side of the room, surrounded by fussing women, was Kenny Howard. Miss Agatha, Miss Corinna, and Alanna stood in the middle, wearing identical troubled looks, and just inside the door, arms folded across his chest and by himself, stood Caleb.

Though he bore little physical resemblance to Trey, in that instant they could have been twins. Caleb wore the
same anger, the same resentment, and the same bitter hatred as the image of Trey that haunted J.D. He saw Trey’s features superimposed on Caleb’s, heard Trey’s anguished pleas for J.D. to stay away, felt the undeniable burden of his own guilt.

In that instant he knew Caleb had to go.

He stopped in front of the boy, who coldly met his gaze. They stared at each other for several moments, then J.D. looked away, after taking in the mussed hair, the cut lip, the T-shirt stained with food and blood.

Without saying a word he crossed the room, brushed Fern Howard aside, and pulled the bloody towel from Kenny’s face. The boy’s nose was puffy, but the swelling was no more than J.D. would expect from a solid punch. Pushing the towel back in place, next he removed the ice pack Nora Nichols was holding to Kenny’s left eye. It was swollen too, and discoloring quickly, but it was no more impressive than the shiners Kenny had given other kids over the years.

“That boy shouldn’t be here.” Fern’s voice was soft, but in the still room it carried easily. “I realize he’s troubled and you’re trying to help him, but—”

J.D. interrupted her. “You don’t realize anything, Fern. Keep his head tilted back and put pressure on his nose, like this.” Lifting the towel once again, he pressed his fingertips together just underneath the bridge of the boy’s nose. “Keep using the ice pack on his eye. If he has any problems later—an increase in pain, the bleeding won’t stop, headaches, whatever—take him to the emergency room. You”—he pointed to Caleb—“come with me.”

Caleb pivoted around, pushed through the door, and let it slam behind him. By the time J.D. got outside, he was turning the corner ahead.

“Dr. J.D.!” Alanna caught up with him, grabbed his arm. “It wasn’t Caleb’s fault!”

“It wasn’t Caleb’s fault that his fist connected with Kenny’s eye? That it almost broke Kenny’s nose?”

“But Kenny started it! He’s a horrible child, Miss Agatha said so! He deserved a black eye and a broken nose and a whole lot more!”

“Well, Lannie, unfortunately we can’t go around giving people what we think they deserve.” He turned her back toward the church. “Go back inside. We’ll see you later.”

He watched until she obeyed, then reluctantly went after Caleb. The boy, looking mutinous and not the least bit remorseful, waited beside the truck. Once they were both settled inside, instead of starting the engine, J.D. faced him. “What happened?”

Caleb stared straight ahead. “I hit him.”

“I’d say that was fairly obvious. Why?”

He simply shook his head.

His silence sharpened the edge to J.D.’s voice. “You don’t have an answer? You don’t know why? You hit him for no reason?”

This time he offered no response at all.

J.D. breathed in deeply, seeking patience and trying to separate Trey and Caleb in his mind and in his emotions. When he was calmer, he tried again. “Alanna says it’s not your fault. She says Kenny started it.”

Caleb’s eyes shifted just a bit toward J.D., then he caught himself and stared even harder at the stone wall in front of them.

“Of course that’s no surprise. Kenny usually does start it. But you were wrong to finish it.”

He expected the boy to protest, to defend himself, to tell him that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but Caleb didn’t say a thing.

“You want to tell your side?”

Not a word.

With a sigh J.D. turned the key. They drove home in
silence. When they walked in the door, the phone was ringing. J.D. looked at the caller ID, then grimaced. “Get cleaned up, then go to your room.”

Caleb walked as far as the hallway, then turned back. “I hate you.” His voice was flat, dull, so empty of emotion that J.D. had no doubt he meant the words with every fiber of his being.

J.D. lifted the receiver. “You don’t waste any time, do you, Ms. Malone? Of course, the Howards don’t waste any time either, do they?”

“No. I just got off the phone with Reverend Howard. He was not happy with the way you and I are doing our jobs. Can I come over?”

“Nice of you to ask, considering you have that right, regardless of what I say.”

She was silent for a moment. Trying to judge his mood? Lots of luck, because he wasn’t sure himself exactly what he was feeling. He was angry—with Kenny for being such a brat, with Caleb for getting into trouble, with himself for not knowing how to handle it. Frustrated because he knew Caleb needed something right now—friendship, understanding, affection, support—that he couldn’t give. Guilty because he’d taken responsibility for the boy when he could hardly bear to deal with him. Sick because he was failing. Again.

“If this is a bad time, I can come later,” Kelsey said quietly.

“No. Now is fine.” Maybe she could provide Caleb what he couldn’t.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

J.D. hung up and started down the hall. As he passed the bathroom, the door opened and Caleb stepped out, his hair wet and slicked back, his soiled clothes in a ball. J.D.’s gaze settled on his mouth, and he reached out to tilt his chin up. “Let me see.”

Caleb grabbed his wrist with surprising strength for a skinny, underfed child.
“Don’t touch me.”

J.D. forced another couple of deep breaths, then quietly commanded, “Let go of me, Caleb.”