Different from Grandpa.
Equally powerful.
The doctor continued.
“Would you like him to stay?”
Rachel hesitated.
Then nodded.
Everett sat.
The physician looked at the labs.
“You’re significantly anemic again.”
Again.
Everett remembered Caleb saying his mother became weak.
He stared.
Rachel saw the question.
“Not here.”
The doctor continued.
“I want to admit you overnight.”
Rachel sighed.
“I can’t.”
“Mom.”
Caleb looked up.
The doctor remained calm.
“You can.”
Rachel looked at her son.
That was the real problem.
Who watched Caleb?
Everett understood.
Before he spoke, he remembered himself.
Ask.
Do not decide.
“Rachel.”
She looked at him.
“If you want…”
He paused.
“I can stay with Caleb.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Not because she hated him.
Because nineteen years did not disappear because of a photograph.
Caleb looked at his mother.
“I like Grandpa.”
Rachel almost laughed despite herself.
“You met him four hours ago.”
“He helped.”
Everett said nothing.
Rachel looked toward the hospital bed rail.
Then at him.
“I need a minute.”
“Take it.”
Everett left the room.
That mattered too.
He did not stand outside listening.
He walked to the vending machines.
Bought coffee.
Did not drink it.
Twenty minutes later, Caleb came around the corner.
“Mom says okay.”
Everett looked down.
“You sure?”
Caleb nodded.
“She says you can take me to Aunt Denise.”
Everett frowned.
“Who’s Aunt Denise?”
“Our neighbor.”
Not stay with him.
Not yet.
He respected that.
“Okay.”
Rachel gave him the address.
Everett drove Caleb across town.
On the way, Caleb talked constantly.
School.
Baseball.
Dinosaurs.
A science project involving beans.
Then:
“Mom keeps a box with pictures of you.”
Everett gripped the steering wheel.
“She does?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you look at them?”
“Sometimes.”
“What does she say?”
Caleb thought.
“That you were stubborn.”
Everett almost laughed.
“Accurate.”
“And that you made good pancakes.”
“Also accurate.”
“And that she missed you.”
Everett went quiet.
Caleb continued as children do, unaware when they have opened adult wounds.
“She cries on your birthday.”
Everett stared at the road.
“How does she know my birthday?”
Caleb looked confused.
“She’s your daughter.”
Of course.
Everett swallowed hard.
Aunt Denise turned out to be a retired nurse in her late fifties who looked at Everett as though she already knew everything.
Maybe she did.
Rachel had told someone.
Denise hugged Caleb.
Then stared at Everett.
“So.”
Everett shifted.
“So.”
“You're the father.”