Father to Be (26 page)

But a little intimacy was better, and a whole lot of intimacy …

He took her mouth, coaxed her lips apart, then her teeth, and she made a soft little sound—part whimper, part moan, all erotic. She brought her hands to his shoulders, but she neither drew him near nor pushed him away. She simply held on. He understood the need. Hell, he shared it.

Moving on their own, his fingers found the scarf that secured her hair and worked loose the knot, pulled it away, let her hair fall free. He wound long, silky curls around his hands and restlessly, anxiously, moved closer, only to meet the barrier of the car door.

The metal and glass reminded him that they were standing in a field right outside the carnival, where every soul they knew could walk past at any moment. It reminded him all too clearly that there was no way she was going home with him that night, no way she was taking him home with her.

He freed his hands first, then ended the kiss, but he didn’t step back. In the dim light he stared at her, and she stared back, her lips parted, her expression slightly stunned—and a lot turned on.

“I …” Her mouth moved, but the sound was negligible.
She breathed deeply, then tried again. “I don’t kiss on first dates.”

“I know.” He didn’t resist the urge to brush one small kiss to her forehead before he started toward his truck. A safe distance away, he turned again and managed a grin far cockier than he felt. “But this wasn’t a date. Remember?”

Chapter Ten
 

C
aleb was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, on the edge of a dream he didn’t want to leave, a dream that he was home, lying in his own bed, listening to his dad out in the kitchen. Sometimes his dad worked late, even long after it was dark, and didn’t eat supper until the kids were asleep. Nights when he wasn’t too tired, Caleb would get out of bed and sit at the kitchen table with him. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn’t. Either way, they were still just about his most favorite times.

But the more awake part of his brain knew that he wasn’t home, he wasn’t in his own bed, and that wasn’t his dad shuffling around out there. It was
him
, Grayson.

Giving up trying to hold on to the dream, he leaned over the side of the bed to see the clock. It wasn’t even nine-thirty yet. Not much of a date, he thought scornfully. Maybe the welfare lady was too smart to fall for his lies. Probably not though. After all, hadn’t she left them with him?

He rolled onto his back and stared up. Light came from the hall and through the window, throwing weird shadows across the ceiling. Some nights he tried to make out things, like they used to do with clouds, but late in the night there weren’t any birds or animals or trains to be found. There were just shapes that sometimes moved and were a little bit scary.

Everything at night was a little bit scary.

Down the hall the television came on, turned loud enough for him to hear but too low to understand. Footsteps went to the bathroom, then back. After a few minutes they came again, this time right to the bedroom door. Long shadows that looked nothing like a man stretched across the ceiling, over Caleb’s head to the wall behind him.

“Caleb?”

He closed his eyes, held his breath.

“You know, you’re kind of old to have an eight-thirty bedtime. If you want to stay up awhile, you can. You can watch TV or read or here’s a novel idea—we could talk.”

His lungs burning, Caleb eased out a little air, then sucked in a bit more. Other than that he didn’t even twitch a muscle.

“Or you can lie there, pretending to be asleep until you really do fall asleep. It’s your choice.”

At the sound of footsteps leaving, Caleb opened his eyes. The shadow was gone.

He didn’t know if Grayson had really known he was awake or just guessed. He hoped he knew that Caleb would rather lie awake in the dark than spend even a minute with him. He hoped the shrink knew just exactly how much he didn’t like him or trust him or want him around.

Even if he was bored lying awake in the dark.

Even if he did hate the dark.

Even if he did like the idea of having a different bedtime because he was the oldest and most grown up.

His stomach growled, and he rubbed one hand over it. Mrs. Larrabee had fixed soup and sandwiches after they had their baths, but everyone had been too tired and too full from all the carnival food to eat. She’d wrapped everything and put it in the refrigerator in case they got hungry later.

Down the hall the microwave dinged, and a moment later he smelled something tomatoey. Soup? The pizza left over from last night’s dinner? His stomach growled louder, and his mouth began to water. He tried to ignore the hunger. He knew how to keep busy doing other things, to think hard about other things, but tonight he just couldn’t make it work.

He slid out of bed, careful not to wake Gracie below. Just a sandwich, that was all he was getting. A sandwich and a glass of milk, and he’d eat at the table in the dining room. He wouldn’t even have to look at the shrink, much less speak to him.

Only one light was on in the living room, that and the TV. Caleb looked from the corner of his eye as he passed and saw Grayson lying on the couch, pizza leftovers on a plate in front of him on the coffee table.

In the kitchen the light over the sink was on and was all he needed. He put a sandwich on a saucer, poured a glass of milk, and sat down at the table.

“You might as well come in and watch TV while you eat,” the shrink said from around the corner.

He stubbornly remained where he was as he took a bite, chewed, and washed it down with milk.

“You had a good time at the carnival, didn’t you? Not as good as you would have had if I weren’t there, I know, but it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Caleb ignored him and concentrated on eating.

“I saw Alanna Dalton there with her family.”

Caleb’s stomach got a pain in it. He’d seen Alanna too, had even said hi to her once. She’d said hi, then Susan Walker poked her and her face had gotten all red, and they’d run off together, whispering and giggling behind their hands. He’d felt like an idiot.

Alanna was so pretty, just like a doll his mother used to have. She left all of them behind, but she took the doll with her. Wasn’t hard to figure out who she loved most.

He hated that doll almost as much as he hated his mother, but it
was
pretty and it did remind him of Alanna. It also reminded him that
he
was the unimportant one. He was the one who got left behind.

Suddenly the light over the dining table came on. The shrink stood there by the switch, watching him. “I see mention of Alanna made you get awfully quiet.”

Because Grayson was the last person in the world he wanted to know what he thought about Alanna, he scowled as hard as he could and said, “I was already quiet.”

The chair across the table scraped on the floor as the shrink sat down. “I think she likes you.”

For just a second, hope made it hard to breathe, but just as quickly as it came, it went away. She didn’t like him. She was nice to him sometimes because … Well, he didn’t know why. Probably because her aunt made her be nice to everybody. But today she’d been embarrassed to talk to him, and she’d run off to make sure no one thought she might know him or anything.

“It’s hard for kids when they like someone,” the shrink said. “Especially girls Alanna’s age. They’re kind of silly sometimes, giggling with their girlfriends about it, getting embarrassed really easily.”

So she was mean because she liked him. Hell, then his mother must have loved him a whole lot. Only his mother hadn’t loved him at all. That stupid doll had meant more
to her than all four of them and their dad put together. And Alanna was ashamed to talk to him when kids from school were around.

But that was okay. He didn’t need his mother, and he sure didn’t need Alanna. As long as he had the kids, that was all that mattered.

“What do you—”

A whine from down the hall made him stop. Gracie came from the bedroom, dragging her yellow rabbit behind by its ear, her hair sticking out all over, and she was whimpering. “I doan feel good.”

Before Caleb could go to her, the shrink held his arms out and Gracie went right to him, climbing up on his lap. Caleb filled with anger and fear. He stomped around the table. “Give her to me.”

Grayson ignored him. “What’s wrong, Gracie?”

Caleb started to reach for her, but the shrink blocked him with his arm. The look on his face was full of warning.

Clenching his fists at his sides, Caleb repeated his words, angrier now, demanding, “Give her to me.”

Gracie gave him an annoyed look. “Leave me alone, Caleb. Go ’way. I’m talkin’ to Dr. J.D.” Then, looking sweet and pitiful again, she said, “My stomach hurts
real bad.
”

Grayson felt her forehead, then combed her hair back the way Caleb always did when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. But
he
had the right to do that. Grayson didn’t.

“You know why your stomach hurts? Because your stomach’s about this big”—he showed her with his hands—“add you’ve stuffed it with hot dogs and corn dogs and candied apples and—”

“And cotton candy and Sno-Kones.” She started to giggle, then clamped her hand over her mouth and wailed, “I
doan feel good! I think I’m gonna be—” Her eyes got real big and her face turned white, and all of a sudden she puked all over Grayson. It splattered his shirt and shorts and ran down his legs to the floor, and it made him turn white too.

Caleb backed off to where the smell wasn’t so strong, then said as innocently as he could, “Gee, you probably feel better now, Gracie. I know I do. See you in the morning.”

If Gracie had come to him, he’d have taken her straight to the bathroom just in case she did puke. But, no, she’d gone crying to
Dr. J.D.
instead, who was dumb enough to sit there, holding her on his lap when she was about to spill her guts. It was their own fault. Let them deal with it.

And he would try real hard to forget that Gracie
had
gone crying to Grayson. Just as Noah had the other day when his shoe needed tying, she’d chosen him over Caleb.

Please, God, don’t let it happen again.

E
very Monday for a hundred and eighty-one years, the Ladies Auxiliary of the First Church of Bethlehem had met for lunch, fellowship, and community service. Winchesters had been active in the group from the beginning, and Corinna and Agatha were no exception. They’d done many good works over the years, shared thousands of tasty meals, and made friendships that had lasted a lifetime. Corinna’s daughters and daughters-in-law and now one of her granddaughters were continuing the tradition, a fact that made her heart proud.

This particular Monday the group’s makeup was not the usual, as many adults were on vacation and a large number of children, who were on summer holiday, attended. Corinna stood in the doorway that led from the kitchen to the dining hall and gazed across the crowd. The ladies,
along with an occasional baby, filled the tables along one side of the hall. The children sat on the other side, creating their own small groups, with one notable exception.

Caleb sat at the near end of the long row, his lunch barely touched. Other children sat in the chairs on either side, but for all the attention they paid him, and vice versa, he might as well have been alone.

“He could break your heart, couldn’t he?”

Corinna glanced up as Lucie Smith came from the kitchen with two cakes for the dessert table. Lucie taught fifth grade at the elementary school and had had both Caleb and Alanna in her class. “Yes,” she agreed. “He certainly could.”

“And, of course, it had to be that bunch who sat by him. That Kenny Howard …” She looked at Kenny’s mother at the far end of the room, then shook her head. “That child shouldn’t be allowed in public without a gag and restraints. You’d think the reverend and his wife would hold him to a higher standard of behavior, but no. They think their precious little darling can do no wrong.”

Corinna smiled gently. “You know Fern lost several babies. The doctors told her she’d never have a child, and then Kenny came along. We can’t fault them for doting on him.”

“No, we can’t,” Lucie acknowledged, but she wasn’t chastened for long. “But it’s possible to dote on a child and teach him proper behavior at the same time. You did it with yours. Most people have managed with theirs. Don’t the Howards realize they’re doing that boy no favors? He’s a bully pure and simple, and he’s just going to get worse as he gets older unless someone sets limits for him.”

Corinna couldn’t argue that point with her. Kenny
was
a bully. Why, just last Christmas he’d given Josie Dalton a black eye. And for hitting a younger, smaller girl, his punishment had probably been something as insignificant as
losing his computer privileges for a day or two. Hitting a girl never would have crossed
her
boys’ minds, and if they had ever committed such an act, well, her Henry would have made sure they never forgot the consequences.

“How did Caleb behave in school?” she asked.