The Kindness of Strangers (27 page)

“Mom!”

“Danny, it’s important—”

“No.”
He didn’t look afraid anymore. He looked irritated, which relieved her. He rolled his eyes, reminding her of Nate. “He made fun of me first. He said I was a ‘brainless moron.’ ”

“But, Danny, now that you know what he was going through at home—”

“But I
didn’t
know!”

“We’d already talked about it when you printed the picture. It was on the news.”

“No, that was—” He stopped.

“Danny? What, hon?”

He made an odd sound, a groan and a sigh combined, a sound he frequently made when he labored over math problems in his homework. “I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry! How many times do you want me to say I’m sorry? Can I please finish the bathroom?”

She sighed. Maybe it was too soon. “Yes, but first can you carry my flats of seedlings down to the basement?”

Danny pouted past her to the yard. She followed him and watched him take one flat and go in the back door. She’d call the therapist tonight and beg for the earliest appointment she could get for him.

“Hey.” An unexpected voice startled her. Nate stood on the driveway, probably wondering what she was doing, frozen there, arms crossed, staring at the door where Danny had disappeared. “Mom? Could I talk to you—about something important?”

Something about his expression made her legs go weak. The first thought that entered her mind was that Mackenzie was pregnant. He never talked to Sarah about anything important; he seemed to actively avoid talking to her at all, so she knew it was urgent.

“You wanna go inside or talk out here?” She wanted to sound casual, but her voice quaked.

Nate looked around the yard like a person who’d never been here before. He frowned at the gargoyle statue but didn’t comment on it. “We could just stay out here, I guess.” He had his hands in his jacket pockets and kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He turned abruptly and sat on the back steps. Sarah walked over and took a seat beside him.

“I want to ask you something, and you have to promise not to be mad.”

Her pulse quickened. “I can’t promise if I don’t know what it is. But I’ll try.”

“I want to ask you a favor.”

“I’ll do it if I can.” He hadn’t asked her for anything since Roy’s death. Except for the blessing on Friday night. It had felt so good to be able to give him something he wanted—for there to
be
something she could offer that he’d value. His eyes were earnest, his face grim. “Nate, I’d do anything I could for you. I hope you know that. I love you.”

He nodded and whispered, “I love you, too, Mom.” He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “This is really important to me. Don’t think I’m not serious.”

Danny came out the back door for another tray of seedlings.

“I know you’re serious,” Sarah said. “Tell me, what is it? What can I do?”

Nate took a deep breath, and Sarah braced herself for the news. “You know how you and Dad used to tell us that our job was
tikkun olam
?”

Danny turned his head as he stepped down the stairs past them. Sarah remained still, letting her brain absorb the unexpected question. The phrase meant “fixing the world” in Hebrew. It had been at least three years since they’d been to synagogue together, since Roy had gotten sick. Why was Nate bringing up something from when he was fourteen?

“You used to say that helping people who needed it was an obligation of being human. You said that’s what being ‘religious’ was really about for a Jew.” She frowned but nodded. “And you told us the rule that”—and here, to her surprise, he began to recite—“ ‘those who have enough give, and those who don’t have enough take.’ ”

She nodded again. “That’s right.” He was certainly stockpiling ammunition for something big. She watched Danny take his time picking up another tray and knew he was lingering intentionally, listening to this conversation.

“Well, we have enough to give, don’t we?” Nate asked.

She searched his face for a clue as to what this was about. “Give what to who?”

“Come on. We have it pretty good, don’t we? I mean, we lost Dad, but we’ve got a lot. We’re actually pretty okay, all things considered.”

Without warning, tears blurred the sight of her first child. She reached out to touch his shoulder, and he didn’t shrug away. “You’re right, Nate. We’re pretty okay.”

Danny finally picked up a tray and headed toward them.

Nate took a deep breath. “I . . . well, I’ve been going to visit Jordan.”

Her stomach bottomed out. “What?”

Danny dropped the tray. The plastic containers clattered as they hit the stairs. Dirt peppered Nate’s and Sarah’s legs. She lifted a little green tomato plant from her lap, its white roots looking fragile and vulnerable unwrenched from its soil bed.

“I . . . I . . . I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” Danny said. He knelt at their feet and picked up plants and tried to sweep dirt back into containers.

“It’s okay,” Sarah said. “Just leave it. I’ll replant them later.” But he didn’t stop. She returned her attention to Nate. “You’ve gone to Children’s to see Jordan?”

“Yeah. I’ve gone, like, three times now. I even went today at lunch.”

Danny looked up, and Sarah felt his panic pulsations again.

“You actually
see
him?” Sarah asked. “He talks to you?”

Nate nodded.

“I . . . I—Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I just . . . I don’t know. After I saw those pictures, and . . . I just felt like . . . I don’t know. I just wanted to go talk to him.”

Sarah decided to ignore the fact that he’d lied about where he took the van. She concentrated on filling her lungs with air and exhaling slowly. “Okay. So what do you want to do for him? You know I’ve been sending him clothes and books and—”

“I know. But . . .” He scooted on the stairs so that he was directly facing her. “Could we foster him, Mom?”

Sarah stared into his green eyes. She wanted to laugh but, thankfully, didn’t. She felt paralyzed. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t hear her heart beat, she couldn’t think of a response. She sensed Danny, frozen at her feet.

“See, he’s wigging out about this,” Nate said. “He can’t stay at the hospital much longer. They keep bringing him foster-care prospects, and he’s freaking, Mom. Mrs. Kendrick keeps sending him letters from jail. It’s pretty screwed—”

“She sends him
letters
?” Danny asked.

Nate nodded.

Sarah’s shoulders tensed.

“What does she say to him?” Danny sounded horrified.

“That she’s sorry, it’s all a mistake, and she can’t wait for them to be together again—”

“Are you serious?” Danny’s eyes flashed with anger.

A muscle spasmed in Sarah’s shoulder. A mistake was forgetting to pick up your kid on time, not allowing your husband to . . . Sarah couldn’t believe she and Courtney had sat on these very steps together, laughing as they imagined the sort of women that might be able to put up with their sons someday. Trying to picture their future wives. Courtney had said, “Nate’ll catch a looker, that’s for sure.” Sarah reached up to massage her own shoulder.

“Think about what happened to him, Mom,” Nate said. “You saw it. I know she was your friend, but we have to help him.” He turned to Danny. “Don’t you think this is a good idea? Don’t you think we should do it?”

Danny stuttered a moment before saying, “Yeah. Yeah, we
should
help him.” He seemed too eager to agree with Nate. Wanting to make up for what he’d done?

Sarah sighed. “Oh, Nate, I . . . Of course I want to help him, but this is pretty complica—”

His earnestness sifted away, settling into something cold and hard. “I knew you wouldn’t do it.” He stood and jerked open the back door.

“Nate!” She reached out to stop him and grabbed his jeans at shin level. He yanked his leg away. “Nate, don’t run away like that. If this is important to you, talk to me about it.”

“Why? You won’t do it. You’re just gonna defend your sicko ‘friend.’ ”

Sarah stood so rapidly that Nate flinched, as if he expected her to strike him. But she only stepped close and said, “That is not fair. You have no idea how hard it was for me to find this out.” She wiped her eyes roughly and turned away.

Poor Danny crouched frozen at the bottom of the steps, among the scattered plants.

Sarah expected Nate to storm off, but he stayed. He said, “I’m sorry,” in a tone that made her believe it.

Sarah sat back down on the steps and took a deep breath. “Sit here and talk to me about this.” He didn’t sit, but he stepped closer, to stand beside her. “I’m not saying yes or no. I just want you to think about this with me. I’m on my own here, and it’s not like you two are a piece of cake to keep track of. You’ve been in a lot of trouble lately, and that doesn’t help—I can’t work when you’re suspended. And Danny just got suspended today.”

Danny stood up, holding the tray with the haphazardly potted seedlings.

“For what?” Nate asked as Danny hurried past them and down the basement stairs.

Sarah waited until he was gone to tell Nate.

Nate’s face darkened. “Jesus.”

She let that go and took another deep lungful of air. “Right. So.” She rolled her shoulders. “Don’t you understand how complicated this is, Nate? This is important to you, you say, and I think it’s very noble of you, but this thing that’s important to you means a lot more work for me, doesn’t it?”

“I’d help you.”

“How?” He gave her The Look. “Nate, I’m serious. How will you help?”

“I’ll . . . I could deliver stuff for you. I’ll help you shop. I don’t know. What do you want me to do?”

She wanted him to be a good person in the world, and here he was, trying.

She couldn’t believe she heard herself saying, “I don’t even know how we go about fostering him.”

He seized on it. “There’s this class you have to take. They’ll pay for his expenses and his doctor bills and everything. They give you money, so you don’t have to worry about it being expensive. Jordan’s case manager told me all about it. He’d help you.”

Sarah looked out across the yard at her flats of seedlings waiting to be put into the earth. Having Jordan in her home brought her family closer to Courtney. Sarah was surprised at the dread this thought burdened her with. She wasn’t sure she wanted any contact with Courtney. But . . . helping Jordan didn’t mean siding herself with Courtney one way or the other. Maybe her family needed to get outside themselves, to deal with someone whose woes were worse than their own. And there was that look on Nate’s face. That look she loved and wanted to keep.

“I’ll talk to this case manager. I can’t promise anything yet, but I’ll see.”

“Really?” His voice came out breathy and boyish.

She nodded.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m not promising,” she warned again.

“I know.” He did that nervous shuffle. “I know.”

She smiled cautiously, and he smiled back. “Could you fold the laundry for me and put it in our rooms?”

He started to protest but stopped and grinned, realizing he was being tested. “Sure.” He disappeared inside the house.

Sarah ran her fingers through her hair, any semblance of a braid long gone. What had she just done? She knew that Jordan wouldn’t come live here. How on earth were
they
to help this poor boy? She’d look into it, find the reason it was impossible, and be done. But she had to do that much. Nate had asked her for something.

The phone rang, and Nate called, “Mom? It’s for you.”

She wearily stood and went inside the house. “Hello?”

“Hello, Sarah, this is Robert Kramble. Um, listen—”

“Oh, God, did someone pay her bail?”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I have a question for you, and it’s a little awkward. I’m—”

“Is it about Danny? Did you find anything at school? I’m so mortified I don’t—”

“No, no, please don’t worry. This . . . this is . . . nothing about what happened today.”

Sarah waited, distracted by Nate foraging through the fridge, vaguely recalling the scent of Kramble’s skin and that crude scar snaking up his wrist.

“I was wondering,” Kramble said, “if I could see you sometime.”

Sarah moved to look at her catering calendar on the open fridge door. “Sure. Mornings are the best for me. Do you want me to come to the station?”

He laughed. “You’re not making this very easy.”

Something in Sarah’s brain snapped to attention. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I mean, can I see you as in take you to dinner sometime?” Sarah flushed—her face, her whole body went warm. Adrenaline tingled her fingertips. Her free hand went to the wedding band on its chain, resting near her breastbone. “Sarah?”

“Oh, um . . .” she began as Nate closed the fridge and bit into a pear. He grinned at her with sparkling eyes, as if they were partners embarking on some great adventure. She didn’t know what words would come, wasn’t sure if she’d say yes or no. “I . . . I don’t think I’m available,” she croaked. Oh. She covered the phone to clear her throat. Nate went down the stairs to the basement, and she spoke in a hush. “Thank you, though. Really. I . . . I . . . Please don’t be offended, but things are just too . . . delicate right now.”