Yet I still didn’t understand how I’d landed at the top of the list. Chris and Heather Ryan had lived in Hawk Valley all their lives. They couldn’t walk to the mailbox without tripping over a half dozen friends. At least a few of them must be steady folks with jobs and parental instincts.
Kathleen, for example.
When I’d found her in the kitchen a few minutes ago she’d looked like a breathing advertisement for tranquil motherhood, the kind of woman who might be cast in a commercial for vegan organic baby carrots or some shit.
“You’ll get to stay here in town now,” Jane said and I saw the idea made her happy. She just took it for granted that I’d jump at the chance to abandon my old life and become an instant parent.
Fuck.
I ran a hand through my damp hair and tried to think. I’d never even changed a goddamn diaper.
Then I looked up and saw Kathleen Doyle was staring at me through the kitchen window. In her arms my baby brother continued to happily suck the contents of his bottle. He didn’t know that he was an orphan. He didn’t know that the peaceful, happy childhood his parents had imagined for him was gone.
I was a selfish person. Some might call me a dangerous one. But my heart wasn’t cold enough to feel nothing for the tiny human who was now my responsibility. My father and Heather knew what kind of man I was. If they’d left Colin in my care it was because they couldn’t think of a better option. And anyway, they must have figured this would never come to pass. I’d only been chosen as a precaution.
“Nash?” Jane called because I’d abruptly turned and headed back through the door to the kitchen.
Colin had finished his bottle and Kathleen was patting his back. She looked startled when I busted into the room again. I wasn’t sure what she thought of me and I didn’t care much. I had only one priority now and she wasn’t it.
“Can I hold him now?” I asked.
A surprised eyebrow popped up and she glanced at Colin as if she wanted to hear what he had to say about the question. Then she sighed and eased up out of the rocking chair.
“Of course,” she said, reaching me in three graceful steps.
I reached out but she pulled back and handed me a blanket.
“You’re still wet from the rain so drape this over your chest. And wait, move your arms closer to your body. You’re holding a baby, not catching a ball.”
Kathleen Doyle sure liked handing out orders but I was willing to accept a little direction. If she assumed I didn’t know what I was doing then she was right. I’d learn though. I’d learn everything there was to know.
Colin produced a low mewl of protest when moved from the warm comfort of Kathleen’s arms to endure my awkward cradling. I thought he’d be heavier. He peered up at me and a wrinkle formed between his brows, like he was worried about why he’d been handed over to some unshaven stranger. The hair on his head was wispy and blonde, like his mother’s. I had a sudden flashback of Heather throwing her had back and laughing at something. It was something I’d said, although I couldn’t recall what. I wasn’t a funny guy.
If babies were capable of doubt, there was definitely doubt in this kid’s eyes. He hadn’t gotten those eyes from Heather. They were bright blue, like my father’s. Like mine. His mouth suddenly puckered and I thought he might cry.
“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s me. It’s your big brother.”
I tried to touch his cheek but he grabbed at my finger, curling his hand around it with more strength than I would have expected.
“Don’t worry, Colin,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That was the truth. I really wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t take him back to a tiny one bedroom apartment beside the ocean. The life I’d led there was solitary and sometimes reckless and it was over. Colin’s parents had wanted him to grow up here and there was no one else to do the job.
My life had just been irrevocably altered and I felt the need to tell someone about it. I looked up and caught Kathleen Doyle’s eyes staring at me.
“I’ll be staying right here,” I told her, as if daring her to argue with me.
She didn’t.
Something wet touched my right ear.
I might have slept through it if not for the sharp volley of impatient barking. When I tried to roll over Roxie jumped on my chest.
“Gimme a break,” I muttered, knowing it had to be pretty damn early in the morning because I was still dead tired.
Roxie smacked me with her paw. “Woof.”
The dog wasn’t the only thing making noise. The plaintive wail of an infant reached my ears and for an instant I was confused about why there were crying baby sound effects echoing through my apartment.
Then I remembered that they weren’t sound effects.
The dog’s ears flattened and she whined as she glanced at the open bedroom door before jumping off the bed.
“I’m up,” I groaned, blinking hard to clear my head a little. I was in my old bedroom, the one room in my dad’s house that had been untouched by renovation projects. Sports pennants and half naked women still decorated the walls, frozen in time as the dwelling of a teenage boy. The room was the same as it had been when I last lived here.
All that had changed was absolutely everything else.
Roxie barked again. The translation was either, “Get that damn kid to stop crying,” or, “Why are you sitting there scratching your dick instead of running to take care of the baby?”
“I’m going,” I groaned, stifling a yawn.
Colin’s room was on the other side of the second floor, right beside what had been the bedroom of his parents. So far I’d avoided looking in there. Even the sight of the closed door made me feel a little sick.
I had hoped they died in their sleep, the smoke from the swift moving fire overtaking them before they had a chance to react. But I’d since learned that was not the case. My father and his wife had been found beside their pickup truck. Upon waking up to discover the world was on fire my dad must have grabbed Heather and made a run for the vehicle, hoping to escape. In that final moment they would have realized it was already too late. Their hands were still joined when the rescue crew discovered them.
I paused at the doorway to Colin’s nursery. When I lived here the boxy little room with grey textured wallpaper had been used to store some inventory for my father’s store on Garner Avenue. Now it was an eruption of color with expressive painted animals on the walls amid happy scenes filled with balloons, smiling suns and rainbows. A teddy bear observed me from the corner rocking chair and a stuffed tiger slept at the foot of the crib where my brother paused for breath before belting out another cry.
Roxie nudged my hand like she was trying to push me forward. I crept over to the crib slowly so I wouldn’t startle the kid. He didn’t know me yet. Only two days had passed since the funeral of his parents.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, attempting to sound soothing and self-assured. Instead my voice scraped out of my dry throat and sounded more like a growl.
Colin stopped crying, opened his eyes to stare at me for a few heartbeats, and then erupted again, kicking his legs and waving his tiny fists with impressive four-month-old fury. Roxie made a sympathetic noise from the doorway. I sighed and scooped my hands under the baby’s writhing body while trying to crush a stab of unease.
Kathleen, for example.
When I’d found her in the kitchen a few minutes ago she’d looked like a breathing advertisement for tranquil motherhood, the kind of woman who might be cast in a commercial for vegan organic baby carrots or some shit.
“You’ll get to stay here in town now,” Jane said and I saw the idea made her happy. She just took it for granted that I’d jump at the chance to abandon my old life and become an instant parent.
Fuck.
I ran a hand through my damp hair and tried to think. I’d never even changed a goddamn diaper.
Then I looked up and saw Kathleen Doyle was staring at me through the kitchen window. In her arms my baby brother continued to happily suck the contents of his bottle. He didn’t know that he was an orphan. He didn’t know that the peaceful, happy childhood his parents had imagined for him was gone.
I was a selfish person. Some might call me a dangerous one. But my heart wasn’t cold enough to feel nothing for the tiny human who was now my responsibility. My father and Heather knew what kind of man I was. If they’d left Colin in my care it was because they couldn’t think of a better option. And anyway, they must have figured this would never come to pass. I’d only been chosen as a precaution.
“Nash?” Jane called because I’d abruptly turned and headed back through the door to the kitchen.
Colin had finished his bottle and Kathleen was patting his back. She looked startled when I busted into the room again. I wasn’t sure what she thought of me and I didn’t care much. I had only one priority now and she wasn’t it.
“Can I hold him now?” I asked.
A surprised eyebrow popped up and she glanced at Colin as if she wanted to hear what he had to say about the question. Then she sighed and eased up out of the rocking chair.
“Of course,” she said, reaching me in three graceful steps.
I reached out but she pulled back and handed me a blanket.
“You’re still wet from the rain so drape this over your chest. And wait, move your arms closer to your body. You’re holding a baby, not catching a ball.”
Kathleen Doyle sure liked handing out orders but I was willing to accept a little direction. If she assumed I didn’t know what I was doing then she was right. I’d learn though. I’d learn everything there was to know.
Colin produced a low mewl of protest when moved from the warm comfort of Kathleen’s arms to endure my awkward cradling. I thought he’d be heavier. He peered up at me and a wrinkle formed between his brows, like he was worried about why he’d been handed over to some unshaven stranger. The hair on his head was wispy and blonde, like his mother’s. I had a sudden flashback of Heather throwing her had back and laughing at something. It was something I’d said, although I couldn’t recall what. I wasn’t a funny guy.
If babies were capable of doubt, there was definitely doubt in this kid’s eyes. He hadn’t gotten those eyes from Heather. They were bright blue, like my father’s. Like mine. His mouth suddenly puckered and I thought he might cry.
“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s me. It’s your big brother.”
I tried to touch his cheek but he grabbed at my finger, curling his hand around it with more strength than I would have expected.
“Don’t worry, Colin,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That was the truth. I really wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t take him back to a tiny one bedroom apartment beside the ocean. The life I’d led there was solitary and sometimes reckless and it was over. Colin’s parents had wanted him to grow up here and there was no one else to do the job.
My life had just been irrevocably altered and I felt the need to tell someone about it. I looked up and caught Kathleen Doyle’s eyes staring at me.
“I’ll be staying right here,” I told her, as if daring her to argue with me.
She didn’t.
Something wet touched my right ear.
I might have slept through it if not for the sharp volley of impatient barking. When I tried to roll over Roxie jumped on my chest.
“Gimme a break,” I muttered, knowing it had to be pretty damn early in the morning because I was still dead tired.
Roxie smacked me with her paw. “Woof.”
The dog wasn’t the only thing making noise. The plaintive wail of an infant reached my ears and for an instant I was confused about why there were crying baby sound effects echoing through my apartment.
Then I remembered that they weren’t sound effects.
The dog’s ears flattened and she whined as she glanced at the open bedroom door before jumping off the bed.
“I’m up,” I groaned, blinking hard to clear my head a little. I was in my old bedroom, the one room in my dad’s house that had been untouched by renovation projects. Sports pennants and half naked women still decorated the walls, frozen in time as the dwelling of a teenage boy. The room was the same as it had been when I last lived here.
All that had changed was absolutely everything else.
Roxie barked again. The translation was either, “Get that damn kid to stop crying,” or, “Why are you sitting there scratching your dick instead of running to take care of the baby?”
“I’m going,” I groaned, stifling a yawn.
Colin’s room was on the other side of the second floor, right beside what had been the bedroom of his parents. So far I’d avoided looking in there. Even the sight of the closed door made me feel a little sick.
I had hoped they died in their sleep, the smoke from the swift moving fire overtaking them before they had a chance to react. But I’d since learned that was not the case. My father and his wife had been found beside their pickup truck. Upon waking up to discover the world was on fire my dad must have grabbed Heather and made a run for the vehicle, hoping to escape. In that final moment they would have realized it was already too late. Their hands were still joined when the rescue crew discovered them.
I paused at the doorway to Colin’s nursery. When I lived here the boxy little room with grey textured wallpaper had been used to store some inventory for my father’s store on Garner Avenue. Now it was an eruption of color with expressive painted animals on the walls amid happy scenes filled with balloons, smiling suns and rainbows. A teddy bear observed me from the corner rocking chair and a stuffed tiger slept at the foot of the crib where my brother paused for breath before belting out another cry.
Roxie nudged my hand like she was trying to push me forward. I crept over to the crib slowly so I wouldn’t startle the kid. He didn’t know me yet. Only two days had passed since the funeral of his parents.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, attempting to sound soothing and self-assured. Instead my voice scraped out of my dry throat and sounded more like a growl.
Colin stopped crying, opened his eyes to stare at me for a few heartbeats, and then erupted again, kicking his legs and waving his tiny fists with impressive four-month-old fury. Roxie made a sympathetic noise from the doorway. I sighed and scooped my hands under the baby’s writhing body while trying to crush a stab of unease.
