Page 4 of Caleb
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Naomi
I’m just aboutto click send on a job application when Jake starts shouting at me from his bedroom.
“Naomi!!”
“Quit yelling!” I feel like screaming at him, but that’s not exactly the example I’m trying to set. Yes, he jumped off the roof of our neighbor's house. Yes, that accident caused me to lose my job. And yes, I’m stuck at home on a beautiful day, studying and job hunting and worrying about where my next paycheck is going to come from. But none of that’s his fault. Not really. He’s young and full of life, and I’m the last person who’d want to squash that. With all he’s been through in the last few years. With everything we’ve all been through, it’s a wonder he’s so happy and full of life.
He calls for me again and I jump up off the couch. “God damn, Jake! I said I’m coming!”
I stomp through the hall and fling his door open. I’m not really mad, but I also don’t want him to see how much I enjoy him needing me. I’ve had to step up as the woman of the house. It’s a lot of responsibility, and not exactly one I asked for. But that’s just life. I’m not complaining. I’m just doing my best to help raise two bright, adventurous boys, with a dad whose job takes him away from home a lot.
I put my hand on my hip and give him my best why-you-waisting-my-time stare. “Boy, you’re lucky you don’t have a bell otherwise I might consider bashing you over the head with it.”
“But I already hurt my head,” he says, pulling his mouth down into the most adorable little frown I think I’ve ever seen.
“And whose fault is that?!”
“Yours?” he squeaks.
“Mine?” I start picking up the toys from the floor. Busying my hands so he can’t see the smile creeping up on my face. “And how exactly is it my fault?”
“You said so,” he giggles. “Yesterday at the hospital. You said it was your fault for not being there.”
“Hmm…” Serves me right for opening my big mouth and trying to be the responsible one in the family. “And why does that give you the right to yell at me like I’m your servant?”
“There’s someone at the door.”
“What?”
“I think it’s a man,” he says. “He’s been out there a while now. Pressing on that button. But you know how it doesn’t work anymore.” He gives me his most angelic smile. “And is that cherry pie I smell?”
I walk out of his room and head for the front door. We don’t get many visitors, and I’m hoping it’s not someone from the hospital come to cause problems. It took a while for that Dr. Caleb to be convinced I could look after my brothers. He really wanted to talk to my father, but I explained how he drives trucks for a living and how it’s not always easy to reach him. How he’s probably asleep on the side of the road somewhere, or busy driving along a highway, battling against an almost impossible schedule.
Either way, I could see that little look of doubt in his eyes. Like maybe we were bullshitting him, and there was some kind of unsafe home environment that Dylan and Jake were being exposed to.
Finally, I’d told him about my mother. How she’d battled with cancer for nearly five years. How the hospital bills had nearly crippled us, and we were struggling just to make ends meet, and how I’d just been canned from my job for rushing over to the hospital.
I guess that worked because pretty soon he was signing the release forms and sneaking a load of bandages and medical equipment into my bag.
He’d winked at me when he finished. And I’m not ashamed to admit a shiver of i-don’t-know-what ran through me, making my nipples go rock hard and that little spot in my tummy start to tighten.
I try and look through the peephole, but it’s so dirty and cracked I might as well be looking into the wrong end of a pumpkin.
Straightening my hair, I quickly make sure I look presentable and open the door.
“Dr. Caleb?” I can barely hide my surprise.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says. “I’ve been ringing your bell for quite a while now. I think it may be broken.”
“Oh, really?” I pretend like I’m shocked. “Deary me, I wonder how that could have happened. Please, come in.”
I open the door and he brushes past me as he enters the house.
He’s not wearing his doctor's outfit today. No scrubs. No long white coat. Just tight black jeans and a skin-tight t-shirt with some kind of pattern on the front. Mountains and a river and retro-looking sun peeking out from behind the clouds.
My eyes linger on his chest for a second longer than appropriate. I can’t help myself.
