Page 16 of Finding Home

In the kitchen earlier, when I rapidly explained Caleb’s unexpected presence in our house, I expected both my parents to express the same unadulterated indignance I felt. But even though both seemed highly protective of Raine, and even though they both expressed the need for us to always keep a skeptical, watchful eye on Caleb, they both also expressed deep joy about Raine finally getting to meet her daddy. My father, especially, was willing to help Caleb get to know Raine, for her own good, far more so than Mom and me.

“Would you forget he’s C-Bomb from Red Card Riot for a minute,” I whisper-shouted angrily at Dad in the kitchen earlier. “And focus on the fact that he’s an absentee father who’s shown up, out of the blue, to take our baby girl away from us?”

“Then why agree to stay in Prairie Springs for a month, if his only goal is to take her away?” Dad countered. “Look, honey, a child needs her father. Yes, C-Bomb’s made mistakes in the past, but he’s come to correct them. That’s a good thing. So, I vote we try to help him do that.”

When I grumbled, Mom said, “Even if we don’t trust him completely, the fact remains there’s no way we can defeat Ralph Beaumont on our own. So, what choice do we have but to align ourselves with Caleb, at least, at first? Your dad is right. We can pull a whammy on Caleb in court, if it comes to that. But for now, let’s help him with Raine, and get on his good side, so he’ll keep his promise and keep us in her life.”

“How’d you two meet?” Caleb asks my parents, drawing me back to the dinner table.

“I grew up in Prairie Springs,” Mom replies. “And Joegrew up two towns over. He played football for the rival team?—”

“Go Red Devils,” Dad interjects.

“And I was the head cheerleader for mine. Go Spartans.” She giggles. “It was quite the scandal, actually.”

“Barb was forbidden fruit,” Dad says with a wink at Mom. “Irresistible.”

Caleb glances at me. “Forbidden is the best kind of fruit, if you ask me.”

I look away, blushing. I’m sure it was a coincidence Caleb looked directly at me when he said that, but my body reacted like he’d just used a Taser on me, just the same.

“After thirty years together,” Mom says, “I think everyone in Prairie Springs has finally forgiven my traitorous betrayal. The people in Joe’s town? Not so much.”

Dad laughs. “They’ve more thanforgivenyou, Barb, or else they wouldn’t have put you in charge of the summer festival for the past ten years.”

Caleb asks what that means, and Dad proudly launches into explaining that for the past decade, my mother has been in charge of the elite committee that meticulously plans our town’s biggest, annual fundraiser/community event: our beloved summer festival.

“That’s impressive, Mrs. Capshaw,” Caleb says.

Mom bats at the air. “It’s really not. I’m the only one willing to do it, basically. And, please, call me Barbara or Barb.”

“And call me Joe,” Dad chimes in.

Caleb asks the timing of this year’s festival, and Mom tells him the date: a Saturday that’s about two months away in mid-August.

“Every year,” Mom says, “the festival raises money for the school and some other local causes. And do you knowwhat the committee did behind my back this year? They addedJoeto the list of recipients because of his broken leg! I told them, no, no, we’ll manage. But wasn’t it sweet of them to want to do that for us?”

I shift in my seat, feeling annoyed with Mom for rejecting the committee’s generous offer to help us out this year. Dad’s surgery was expensive, even with insurance; and Dad’s going to be out of work for at least four months. Probably longer. And now, we might have to scrape together money for a lawyer, too? As hard as it might be for my proud parents to accept, we really could have used that donation, however small it might have been.

Caleb’s forehead creases. “If you need money, I’ve got a lot of it.”

“No, no,” Mom says quickly, blushing a deep crimson. “Joe will be back to work in no time, and I’ve got my job to pay the bills in the meantime.”

It’s total bullshit. Mom’s job will cover only a fraction of our living expenses, and she knows it. And it won’t make a dent in Dad’s medical expenses.

I address Caleb, eager to change the subject. “We’d love a donation from you for this year’s live auction. It’s always the biggest moneymaker of the entire festival.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, I can do that. You mean, like, signed band memorabilia and merch?”

“Exactly. That’d bring in a pretty penny, I’m sure.”

Caleb looks at Mom. “When do you need it by?”

“A week or so before the festival would be great. That’ll give me enough time to post the list and finalize the auction programs.”

“Plenty of time,” Caleb murmurs with relief. “I’ll figure something out and let you know.”

“Thank you so much. That’s very generous of you.”

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