Claire steps from behind the counter, reaches down, lifts Joshua into her arms and sets him next to the cash register. “He will be here in about—” she looks at her watch “—half an hour to pick you up. What do you want to do?”
“Tell me about my Gotcha Day,” he orders. Claire gives him a long, expectant look. “Please,” he adds.
“Okay,” Claire agrees, swinging him into her arms. As is often the case lately, she is struck at how big he’s getting. She can hardly believe that he’s five years old. She presses her nose into his neck and breathes in the comforting scent of the Yardley of London soap he bathed with just that morning. Joshua, in a sudden need for privacy, has started ordering her out of the bathroom when he gets ready for his bath.
“Only Truman and Dad can be in here when I take a bath, because we’re all boys,” he explained.
So Claire, after running the bathwater for him, sits on the floor in the hallway, her back resting against the closed bathroom door, and waits, calling through the door every few minutes, “You okay in there?”
Now she carries Joshua to the plush, comfortable sofa that sits in a corner of the bookstore and they settle in for his favorite story. The story of how Joshua became theirs.
“Before we can talk about Gotcha Day,” Claire says, “we have to talk about the first day we met you.” Joshua snuggles more deeply against her and, as she has every day for the past five years, Claire marvels at his sweetness. “Five years ago, last July, Dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table trying to figure out what we were going to have for dinner when the phone rang.”
“It was Dana,” Joshua murmurs as he fingers the milky-colored pearl hanging from her ear.
“It was Dana,” Claire agrees. “And she said that there was a beautiful little boy waiting for us at the hospital.”
“That was me. That was me waiting at the hospital,” Joshua tells Truman, who decides to hobble over to the pair. “And that birth lady couldn’t take care of me so she left me at the fire station, and the fireman found me just lying there in a basket.”
“Hey, who’s telling this story?” Claire asks, and gently pokes him in the ribs.
“You are.” Joshua wrinkles his upturned nose and tries to look sorry.
“That’s okay, we can tell it together,” Claire assures him.
“And all the firemen didn’t know what to do!” Joshua exclaims. “They just stood there and looked at me and said, ‘It’s a baby!’” Joshua holds his hands out, palms up, a look of animated consternation dancing across his face.
“You were a surprise, that’s for sure.” Claire nods in agreement. “The firemen called the police, the police called Dana, Dana took you to the hospital, and Dana called us.”
“And when you held me in your arms for the first time you cried and cried.” Joshua giggles.
“I did,” Claire concurs. “I cried like a baby. You were the most beautiful little boy and—” At the same time they hear the bookstore door open and Jonathan enters, his work jeans and T-shirt streaked and dusty from his current renovation.
“Hey, guys,” he calls, shaking the rain from his black curls. “What’re you doing?”
“Gotcha Day,” Claire says, by way of explanation.
“Ahh,” Jonathan says, a big grin spreading across his face. “The best day ever.”
“Mom cried,” Joshua says, hiding his mouth from Claire, as if not seeing his lips meant she couldn’t hear him.
“I know,” Jonathan whispers back. “I was there.”
“Hey, Dad cried, too,” Claire protests, looking at her boys with affection. “We took you home and after thirty days the judge said, ‘Joshua is now officially a Kelby.’”
“Who was I before?” Joshua asks a bit worriedly.
“You were a badger with three tails,” Jonathan teases.
“You were a wish that we made every morning when we woke up and a prayer we said before we went to bed each night,” Claire tells him, swallowing back tears the way she always did when she thought about how things could have been very different, if Dana, the social worker, had dialed a phone number that wasn’t theirs.
“You were a Kelby the first day we saw you,” Jonathan says, sitting down on the couch so that Joshua was squeezed between his parents.
“A Kelby sandwich,” Joshua declares, taking up his favorite game. “I’m the peanut butter. You’re the bread.”
“You’re the liverwurst,” Jonathan corrects him. “The olive loaf, the fried egg with limburger cheese.”
“No.” Joshua laughs. “You’re a turkey and dressing sandwich.”
“Hey, I like turkey and dressing sandwiches,” Jonathan protests.
“Blech.” Joshua sticks out his tongue.
“Blech,” Claire agrees while Jonathan looks at her over Joshua’s head and their eyes lock. They both know what it’s taken to finally get to this point. The infertility, the wrenching loss of their first foster child. The
heartache and the disappointment they have endured. The past is firmly in the past, where it belongs, their gazes say. We have our little boy and that’s all that matters.
Charm
Charm Tullia pushes open the door to Bookends, her textbook list in one hand, her cell phone in the other, in case Gus calls. She wants her stepfather to be able to reach her at anytime. She knows the time will come when she will receive the call that informs her that Gus has fallen, has a fever or worse. The rain has stopped, but she carefully wipes her wet feet on the rug inside the entrance of the bookstore.
Claire greets her warmly, as she has ever since the first time Charm came into Bookends several years ago. Claire always asks how her nursing classes are going and how her stepfather is doing.
“He’s not doing very well,” Charm tells her. “The home care nurse says we might want to think about getting hospice involved soon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Claire says with genuine sadness in her voice. Charm lowers her head and begins rummaging through her purse, hiding her eyes that filled with tears at the thought of Gus dying. This is what makes it so hard and so easy for Charm to keep returning to Bookends. Claire Kelby is just so nice.
“Is Joshua here today?” Charm asks, looking around for the little boy.
“You just missed him,” Claire says apologetically. “Jonathan picked him up and took him home.”
“Well, tell him hi for me,” Charm says, trying to mask her disappointment, and slides her textbook list across the countertop toward Claire. “I was able to buy most of my books used through the campus store, except for this one, and it is so expensive,” Charm explains, pointing to a title written on the paper. “Do you have any ideas?”
“I’ll do some checking around,” Claire promises her. “When do you graduate? You must be getting close.”
“In May. I can’t wait,” Charm says with a smile.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know what I can find out about your book. You take care of yourself, okay, Charm? And remember, you call me if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you,” Charm says again, even though she knows she won’t call her for anything beyond finding the book. As much as Charm admires Claire and her family, as much as she enjoys chatting with her, Charm already knows too much about Claire’s life. If Claire were ever to find out just how much, Charm thinks,