Janice Kay - A Mother's Claim

“You’re so tall,” she whispered. Until now she hadn’t even seemed to breathe, only stared with clear gray eyes, her lips slightly parted.

Nobody had ever looked at him like this. He squirmed.

Uncle Nolan’s hand closed on his shoulder. One squeeze, and Christian settled.

“He’s already in a size-nine shoe,” Uncle Nolan said. “I’ve been thinking he won’t stop growing until he’s my height or taller.”

“I—” Her breath sounded funny. “My father is six foot three, and my ex-husband—your father—” she added, not taking her eyes from Christian, “is about the same. He played guard for the Kansas Jayhawks—that’s the University of Kansas.”

She was trying to outdo his real family. No way he was going to let her.

“So?” He shrugged. “Uncle Nolan played football for Cal Berkeley. He even got drafted by the Cowboys, only he went in the army instead.”

Her gaze strayed to his uncle. “Berkeley, huh?” A tiny smile might have been teasing. “Doesn’t seem to go with a military career.”

Uncle Nolan said calmly, “If you’ve read Thucydides, you know that ‘the society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools.’ I subscribe to that belief.”

He was always quoting from Thucydides, an old Greek guy.

“A historian,” the woman murmured. Her eyes went back to Christian. “Could we sit down somewhere? Or go for a walk together?”

The scared feeling expanded in his chest. He looked at Uncle Nolan, who nodded. Christian saw Ms. Stewart’s eyes narrow a little, but she didn’t say anything.

“I guess a walk.” He didn’t want to be, like, face-to-face with her.

Again he felt the reassuring weight of his uncle’s big hand on his shoulder as he passed. He was trailing her to the front of the store when Uncle Nolan called, “Wait.”

They both turned. Uncle Nolan wadded up Christian’s hooded sweatshirt and tossed it.

“It’s cold out there.”

He shrugged into it, thinking if he pulled up the hood, she wouldn’t be able to see his face.

“It looks like there’s a trail along the river,” she said.

“Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a minute. He was more shambling; he really hoped none of his friends saw him. So far, nobody in town but him and Uncle Nolan knew about all this. Well, except for Dr. Santos, their family doctor, and whatever police officer had put Christian’s DNA online.

He felt a spurt of anger because Uncle Nolan had done it even though he knew Christian didn’t want him to.

“Why don’t I tell you about your father and me?” Ms. Stewart suggested. “You have two half sisters, too. And grandparents on both sides, a couple of aunts and uncles as well as—” she seemed to have to count “—six first cousins.”

Christian ignored the flash of surprise and...interest. Were any of the cousins boys close to his age?

“I had a grandma and grandpa,” he said sullenly. “And I have Uncle Nolan.”

“I know you did. Do. Still. More family never hurts.” She paused, as if waiting for him to comment. When he didn’t, she went on to tell him about growing up in Colorado Springs, where her father had been a teacher and then principal of the high school. “A couple of years ago, he became superintendent of the whole district.” Her mother had stayed home when Ms. Stewart and her brother were little kids, then had gone back to work at a plant nursery. “Mom loves to garden,” she said softly. “I think she might like to live somewhere without such a challenging climate, but the mountains are so beautiful they make up for a lot.”

Her brother liked the mountains so much he owned his own business providing guides for climbers. “Not that different from what your uncle Nolan does,” she added.

Ms. Stewart did some kind of social work with women who were having a hard time making it on their own. Kind of like Mom, he couldn’t help thinking. Except Mom had been able to come home for help. She didn’t need anyone but family.

“Your father is a businessman. He has an MBA—a master’s degree in business administration—from Harvard. He was always good with numbers, and he seems to have a gift for guessing what people will do before they do it. He has remarried and has two daughters, so you have half sisters.”

She went on talking about his father’s family—his parents and a sister who was married to a guy on the Olympic luge team, that little sled that left you hanging out there when you hurtled down the icy curves. Christian remembered watching the Sochi Games with Uncle Nolan, who said those guys had to be nuts.

“Of course, he’s not a blood relative, but you have plenty of talented athletes in your family tree.”

He’d always thought he was like Uncle Nolan, who could do any sport and make it look easy. I am, he told himself now, fiercely. He didn’t even know these other people.

“Will you...tell me more about yourself?” she asked hesitantly.

She had to be kidding. What was he supposed to say?

“I know you’re in sixth grade.” She seemed to be trying to get him started. “Are you excited about starting middle school in the fall?”

He hunched deeper in his sweatshirt. “I guess.”

“And what about high school? Do you plan to play any sports?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Do you have any hobbies? Collecting rocks or building a go-kart or learning to work on car engines or...” Sounded like she was running out of ideas.

Building a go-kart? Really?

Christian stopped and looked out at the river. Man, he wanted to be out there on a board instead of standing here with this woman who thought he should be her little boy when he wasn’t.

“I windsurf. And I give lessons for Uncle Nolan.”

“That’s pretty amazing at your age.” If she’d had pom-poms, she’d probably have waved them.

“Can we go back now?” he asked.

Without looking at her, he couldn’t tell whether the long silence meant she was surprised, mad or hurt, but he didn’t care. It was only because Uncle Nolan would be disappointed in him that he didn’t leave her and run back to the shop.

“All right,” she said at last.

They were halfway back when she asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”

As if a dam had broken, all of his confusion and fears rushed out, like a river current when the water was running high. He lifted his eyes to hers. “Do you think I’m going to go live with you?”

The wind had whipped color into her pale face, but her expression made him remember Uncle Nolan’s when he’d first seen all the blood that day.

“Yes,” she said.

“Because I’m not! I want to stay here, with Uncle Nolan. And you can’t make me go!”

He ran, sobbing, not letting himself look back.

* * *

THE AGONY WAS so great it was all she could do not to crumple to the paved path.

Dana stood stricken, watching Gabriel run from her. No, not Gabriel—Christian. The boy who was a stranger. Who loved his uncle and wanted to hate her.

No, she thought drearily, not wanted. Did. And could she really blame him? She’d turned everything he had believed about his family on end. That had to be damaging his sense of self.

His mother was no longer his mother; his uncle wasn’t his uncle. He wasn’t even really Christian Gregor.

Dana spotted a bench twenty feet ahead. She made it that far, grateful to sink down and bend forward, squeezing her arms around herself for warmth and protection. Thank goodness no one else was approaching. She doubted she was capable of assuming a facade.

She was bewildered, with no idea what to do. Was it even possible to get through to him? Did she batter her head against a brick wall? Or hang around in the hopes that she had aroused enough curiosity he’d come to her?