Jake's child Read Free

inside for soda and bread.
    "You here alone?" Jake flipped the light switch.

    "Not for long," she lied, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder. He was too close. She must be panicked. She'd never even thought about turning on the light in her desire to reach the safety of the kitchen.
    Now she was trapped. He dropped into the seat nearest the back door. She couldn't get to the door without passing dangerously close to him.
    The boy—Nicholas?—scooted onto the seat next to the man and watched her. Interest chased the glaze of fatigue from the boy's eyes. "Need some help, ma'am?"
    If he were a dog, his whole body would have shaken with the force of his enthusiasm. She didn't smile at him, didn't encourage his reaching out, but she felt like a real stinker when he looked away. She'd seen the flash of awareness in those young-old eyes.
    She swallowed. The fear the man's presence aroused in her didn't justify treating the boy the way she had. Not his fault. If both of them would... would just leave. The boy drummed his heels on the rung of the chair.
    "Be still, Nicholas." Jake's level voice stopped the restless movement.
    Unnaturally obedient, Nicholas folded his hands together and laid his head down. His eyes followed her every movement. Sarah was irritated with herself. She slapped the table knife hard on the dry toast. Even in a situation like this a little kindness wouldn't kill her. Well, it might, but if it didn't she was going to remember that child's face for the rest of her life. One more portrait for her nightmare gallery.
    Grudgingly she turned, meeting the man's unsettling brown eyes for only an instant, and spoke to the boy as she dumped canned soup into a pot. "You can get jelly if you want some."
    The boy looked to his father—how different they looked—for permission. When the man nodded, the boy

    bounced out of his chair. Where was he getting his energy? He'd been ready to fold ten minutes earlier.
    "So, ma'am/' he asked from the depths of the icebox, "why do you keep your bread in the fridge?" He poked around in the refrigerator and dug out a jar of guava jam.
    Curious little monkey. Definitely not from the area if he didn't know that. "Bugs," Sarah muttered.
    "Bugs. Yeah, I suppose." His expression was sagely understanding, a pint-sized guru. The light shone on his thin wrists.
    Didn't he get enough to eat? Sarah wondered. He seemed awfully small and stringy.
    "So what kind of bugs?" By now he'd opened the jar and stuck his index finger in, unself-consciously tasting it.
    The man had tipped his chair back against the counter and watched the proceedings through half-closed eyes as though he were running a tally sheet on her.
    "The bugs, ma'am." The boy leaned against her hip, his face tipped to hers.
    She moved sideways, away from him, before she could stop herself. His small bones against her were unbearable, like an accusation. Clearing her throat, she ignored his expression. "Cockroaches. Florida has huge cockroaches."
    "Yeah?" He was enraptured. "Roaches! Really big, huh?"
    "Well, sometimes we call them palmetto bugs because they nest in palmetto trees, but we have new bugs now, Asian cockroaches, bigger, meaner." She felt as if she were at the Mad Hatter's tea party. Midnight intruders. Cockroaches. She sliced the toast into rectangles and poured soup into a green bowl. "Here."
    "So how big, a foot?" The plate and bowl dangled precariously from the boy's dirty fingers and his narrow face sparkled.

    "Enough, Nicholas," a commanding voice broke in. "Eat." The man's chair banged on the floor. Sarah jumped. "Thank the lady."
    "Yeah, right, but, Jake, I really want to know about them cockroaches. She don't mind, do you, ma'am?" Nicholas leaned against her again.
    Sarah shook her head. "I don't mind." Her hand trembled.
    "See, Jake? She don't mind about the bugs. She just don't want me leaning up on her. Probably because I'm so dirty. You told me not to roll down that hill." He swallowed a huge mouthful