“Sure,” she nodded. “Carmen will take you to the Fosters’.”
“One more thing,” he added before leaving. “I want Ben to know that I’m his father.”
Mrs. Turner glanced at Ms. Woods. “As I said, we’re not sure how much Ben understands.”
“I still want him to know—to feel that he’s not alone anymore.”
She seemed to hesitate, then nodded again. “It’s probably best.”
“Thank you,” he said, and left the room.
In the hall Ms. Woods said, “You can follow me over there if you like. I’ll bring my car around.”
Jake did as she asked and tailed her white Corolla through the busy Houston traffic. They made several stops for lights and finally turned into a residential area with brick homes and small landscaped yards. How did people live so close together? He’d grown up with lots of fresh air and space and he wanted Ben to grow up the same way, but it might not be a possibility. He had to prepare himself.
Carmen pulled into a driveway and he parked behind her. Jake glanced at the house. Very neat and clean, he thought, then realized she was waiting so he quickly made his way to the front door.
“Mr. McCain,” she said before ringing the bell. “I need to tell you that the Fosters are not pleased by this visit.”
“I’m not pleased that they have my son, but I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation. I hope they’ll do the same.”
She seemed to want to say more then changed her mind. She pushed the doorbell.
A slim, gray-haired man opened the door. Jake guessed he was somewhere in his fifties.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said gruffly.
“Yes, Mr. Foster, we’re here to see Ben,” Ms. Woods replied.
He opened the door wider and they stepped into the foyer. “This is Jake McCain. Carl Foster.” Carmen made the introductions.
“We know who he is, Ms. Woods,” a woman said as she joined them. She was also thin with graying blond hair. The expression on her face was unfriendly. Jake received that message loud and clear.
“This is Peggy Foster,” Ms. Woods murmured as if nothing had been said, then quickly asked, “Where’s Ben?”
“He’s in the den, but I won’t have him upset,” Mrs. Foster answered.
“We’re not here to upset Ben,” Carmen told her. “We talked about this and I thought you understood.”
“I don’t understand how he can have any rights where Ben is concerned,” Mrs. Foster snapped angrily.
Carl put an arm around his wife and led her to the kitchen. Ms. Woods didn’t say anything and Jake followed her into a large den. His eyes froze on a little boy sitting on a sofa with a pile of Lego blocks in his lap and a tattered teddy bear by his side. He held two pieces in his hands and was trying to fit them together. He looks normal was Jake’s first thought. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers like other kids. He was small for his age, though. And so thin.
Jake didn’t know what he was expecting, but at the sight of his son he felt as if the sun had burst open inside him, filling him with so much warmth that for a moment all he could do was absorb the wonderful feeling.
Ms. Woods sat beside the boy. “Hi, Ben.”
Ben didn’t answer. He kept fiddling with the plastic pieces.
“I brought someone to see you.”
Still no response.
“Ben, do you hear me?”
Nothing.
“I brought your daddy to see you.”
Ben slowly raised his head and stared at Jake. Jake’s stomach tensed at the sight of that precious face. Ben looked so much like the boy in Jake’s baby pictures, with his sandy brown hair and brown eyes. This was his son. The pain in his stomach shot straight to his heart. His son was waiting, but he couldn’t seem to move.
Finally, he took several leaden steps to sit by Ben. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest and concentrate on the pleasure.
Ben’s eyes followed him.
“Hi, Ben,” he said, his voice rusty.
Ben just stared at him.
Jake glanced down at the Lego blocks. “What are you building?”
No answer.
“It’s been a while since I played with these. Are you making a house? A car?”
Still nothing, but Ben’s eyes never wavered from Jake’s face.
“How about a tractor? I know a lot about tractors. I have several on my farm. Would you like to build a tractor?”
Ben held out a green Lego.
At the unexpected gesture, Jake felt exquisite joy. Ben was responding to him. He took the block, so desperately wanting to touch his son, to hold him. Instead he picked up several more and started working on a tractor. Ben continued to hand him pieces and Jake thought maybe Ben should help. “Okay.” He smiled. “Your turn.”
Ben tried to snap two green ones together, but couldn’t because he didn’t have them lined up correctly. Jake resisted the urge to help. In deep concentration, Ben worked until finally he’d figured out how to join the pieces.
“That’s great!” Jake gushed, feeling as if Ben had split the atom or something equally important.
After that, they continued fitting pieces together until they had a strange-looking tractor. “I don’t know, son, but I think I’ve forgotten the finer points of building a tractor.”
Ben held the model against his chest, his eyes huge.
“Next time I come to see you, I’ll bring you a toy tractor. Would you like that?”
Ben nodded.
Jake’s pulse accelerated. Ben understood what he was saying.
“Mr. McCain, it’s time to go,” Ms. Woods spoke up.
No. He couldn’t leave his son, but he knew he had no choice. He wanted to take Ben in his arms and hold him, but he was afraid it might frighten the child. It took all the strength he had to resist.
Jake got to his feet. “I’ll be back, Ben,” he said, and he noticed the look on Ms. Woods’s face. Surely she wouldn’t try to keep him away from Ben.
The Fosters came into the room and Jake and Ms. Woods left. Outside, Ms. Woods said, “I wish you hadn’t told Ben you were coming back.”
“Why?”
