Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"Don't take the green thing out till you eat them."

"I see."

"They get rotting.",

"I see."

"Then get them dry but don't squish them."

"Certainly not."

When the berries were bagged and refrigerated, Sam offered to show Stern his cave in the ravine. Stern called twice to Sonny but she did not respond and they. left the cabin quietly.

Sam's cave was in the hollowed trunk of an old oak. The boy had built a nest of sorts out of dried leaves and twigs and in an empty fliptop cigarette box had stored two or three plastic figures with gargoyle faces and muscular bodies of a resilient resin. Sam told Stern their names-each apparently was an important cartoon star-and spent quite some time heavily engaged in the staging of various interplanetary wars, which Stern observed from the safety of a resting place in the crotch of a birch tree about thirty feet away. Cowboys and Indians, the pastime of his children's early years, was now banned on political grounds.

Villains these days were alien species, and, rather than six-guns, firearms were lazer-mazers that evaporated all objects with a bright red beam. The game ended abruptly when the boy turned from his pieces.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"After all those strawberries?"

Sam tossed up his hands and repeated that he was hungry.

"I am sure Sonny will make you some dinner. Shall we see if she is awake?"

Inside the cabin, however, no one was stirring. Stern called to her softly and Sam added his voice at more telling volume. Stern hushed him and, after holding the boy back, crept alone to the small rear room where she lay uncovered on a narrow folding cot, still rosy with the heat but solidly asleep. Her hair was dark against her skin and one leg of her shorts had crept far up her thigh, showing some of the soft weight of pregnancy. Sonia Klonsky, his energetic antagonist, slept with the adorable soft innocence of a child, her pink mouth tenderly parted.

Briefly, Stern, without reflection, raised the back of his hand gently to her cheek.

When he turned, Sam was watching from the open doorway.

"I want to to be certain she is not sick," Stern whispered. at once.

But he felt his heart knocking and he heard an urgent note in his voice.

The boy, however, required no explanation.

"I'm hungry," he said again, somewhat pathetically. Stern raised a finger to his4ips and ushered Sam out, "Do you know how to make dinner?"

"What is it you wish, Sam?"

"Hot dog and potato chips."

"That may be within my range."

They ate two hot dogs apiece. Sam was a garrulous, free-flow talker except when he ate, an activity he undertook briefly but with great concentration. When he was done, he resumed conversation, relating, in response to questions, that he was five and a half, went to all-day kindergarten at the Brementon School, and could read, a/though he was not supposed to He was a remarkable child, full of a warm, seeking intelligence. That brightness lit him up like a candle and gave him a physical radiance which, in a person so young, amounted to beauty.

He considered Stern through a single squinted eye.

"What's your name again?"

"Sandy."

"Sandy, can I go in the hot tub after dinner?" 'J'You must ask Sonny, after she is up."

"I always go."

"Sam, not so loud. You will wake her."

As the light dwindled, Stern and Sam played Battleship.

Sam, most impressively, understood all the rules, although he treated them with occasional indifference. At one point, as Stern marked out the location of one of the boy's destroyers, he erased furiously on his page.

"Sam, I believe your ships must remain where you placed them."

"See, I was really going to put it somewhere else." He pointed to the page.

"I see," said Stern.

"I really was."

"Very well." Peter, Stern recalled, had refused to obey the rules of any game until he was past ten. He cheated with' alarming guile and cried furiously whenever he lost, particularly to his father. After Sam's triumph in Battleship, they played a number of hands of Go Fish. Sam was a canny player, but was interested only in making books of picture cards. He did not care to hold ace through ten.

"I wanna go in the hot tub," he told Stern.

"When Sonny wakes up." Stern had checked on her again from the doorway only a few minutes before.

"I'll have to go to bed then."

"I see. What is it you do in the hot tub, Sam?" 'Look at the stars."

"Perhaps we can look at the stars, nonetheless."

"All right." He climbed down from his chair at once, ignoring the hand in play.

On the veranda, Stern found two splintered rockers and they sat side by side. The change of wind had pushed off the haze and the country sky was clear and magnificent. The air, after the heat of the day, was almost brisk. Sam had read a number of books about astronomy and at the ae of five spoke about "the heavens." He knew the names of a number of constellations and demanded that Stern orient him to each.

"Where' s Cassiopeia?"

Oh dear, thought Stern. Cassiopeia. He had not spent many evenings in his life studying the night skies. "Over there, I beFeve."

"That one?"

"Yes."

"Sort of blue?"

"Yes."

"That's a planet."

"Ah," said Stern.

The boy accepted this failure without complaint. Stern had forgotten that-that it was not rivalry or a showdown that Sam was after, just information. ff it was unavailable here, there would be better sources soon enough.

"I'm cold."

"Would you like your jacket?"

"Can I sit in your lap?"

"Of course." Stern boosted the boy beneath his arms, and he settled in at once, lolling back against his chest and belly. Dear God, the sensation. He had forgotten. To be able to fold yourself about this life in the making. The small limbs; the waxy odor of;his hair after time in the woods. Stern put both arms about the boy and let Sam nestle against him.

"Is the sun a star?" asked Sam. "So they say."

"Are the stars hot?"

"They must be."

"Could you drive a jet plane through a star if you went real fast?"

"I suspect not, Sam. The stars are hot enough to bum up most anything."

"Anything? Like the whole earth?" Sam now had a troubled look. Stern wondered if he was telling him inore than he should. "What if you poured like jillions and jillions of gallons of water on it?"

"That undoubtedly would work," said Stern.

The boy was still watching him. "Are you joking me?"

"Joking? NO. Is that a joke.9"

"You're joking me," the boy insisted. He pressed his finger in Stern's belly, as often seemingly had been done to him.

"Well, perhaps a little."

Sam turned around and rested again against his chest.

Was it possible? Stern thought in a swift rush of emotion.

Was it truly possible? Could he start again and do it better on this go-through? Oh, but this was mad. With the small boy somehow coursing against him, Stern closed his eyes in the great country darkness and wrestled despair.

How, truly, could this be occurring? He saw more and more clearly how fixed his feelings were, how set he was on a path of absolute lunacy. He could not prevent a brief sound from escaping.

In a moment, Sam turned back.

"Can I go in the hot tub? Please," he said. "Please please please."

"Sam, I know nothing about hot tubs."

"I do. I'll show you. It's easy." He slithered away and ran down the veranda. "It's full and everything."

Stern drifted over. The tub protruded about a foot above the level of the porch. Sam had already eased off the canvas cover. The water temperature was moderate, apparently for Sam's benefit. What, after all, was the harm?

Sam hugged him the instant he agreed and immediately shed his clothes. Fully naked, he dipped in a toe. "Come on," he said.