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Link to Chapter 9

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10


There was warmth next to him. Warmth that smelled like strawberries and chocolate chip cookies, surrounding him and holding him tightly. He shifted a little and opened his eyes partway.

The room was bright, sunlight streaming in through partially opened curtains, and next to him, Martha lay there quietly, her soft, kind eyes watching him. She reached up and brushed his hair back off his forehead as she smiled at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, still smiling.

He blinked and curled up next to her without answering, suddenly remembering the middle of the night last night when he’d woken up crying, sure a monster was after him. A big orange monster with huge red eyes and green claws that screeched as it chased him down into the basement back in his old house.

When he’d sat up in bed, terrified, Martha had been there. And he’d crawled up into her arms, and she’d rocked with him, waiting for him to calm down. Then, after his heart had stopped racing, she’d tried tucking him back in, but as soon as she’d started to leave, the fear had come back… So instead, she’d crawled into bed next to him and held him and…

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” She said this while rubbing his back, and that made all the difference.

“B-better than—better than l-last n-night,” he managed, but he hated himself for stuttering, and he screwed his eyes shut. “S-sorry.”

He meant sorry for a lot of things, especially for being such a burden. But Martha just shook her head.

“No reason to say sorry, sweetie. I’m happy to be here for you, whenever you need it. Okay?”

It still didn’t make sense to him, but he nodded anyway.

“We should probably get up though. I need to make poor Jonathan breakfast. And I bet you’re ready for something to eat too?”

He wondered if she’d just let him eat another cookie. He thought maybe cookies were his favorite food now. But he didn’t want to ask, and so he just nodded again.

“Great! Why don’t we get up now, and we can both get dressed. Do you remember where we put your clothes?”

“The—the b-bottom drawer,” he answered, looking up at her. Her eyes still sparkled, and he closed his eyes again and curled up against her. “I want…” He trailed off and shook his head. He couldn’t ask her; he shouldn’t. She’d just said she needed to get up, after all.

But he didn’t want to let go of this—this feeling of…he wasn’t even sure. But it was warm and comfortable. And he felt so…safe right here. He let out a shuddering breath, trying to hold back his tears.

It was safe to cry here. And it was safe to tell her. She wanted him to tell her. She’d said so several times. She and Jonathan both. So when her hand started to rub his back again, he nodded.

“You want to stay here for a few more minutes, sweetie?” Martha guessed.

“Y-yes. Yes, please.”

He heard a quiet laugh.

“We can do that. A few more minutes is fine.”

“Th-thank you.”

He felt her pull the blanket up around his shoulders and then kiss the top of his head, and it felt so nice, so comfortable and warm. He felt a sudden urge to tell her this—especially how much he liked the blanket. And he almost did. But then a hazy memory reminded him that nice things, including warm blankets, could be taken away as punishment, and he promptly changed his mind.

Better she not know. Just in case.

After a few more minutes, he silently sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. When he stood, his legs felt less wobbly than they had the day before, and he didn’t immediately feel dizzy. He forced his legs to move toward the dresser, and he then tugged open the bottom drawer and stared in at the neatly folded clothes. There was two more of everything—two pairs of pants, two shirts (one blue, one gray), two pairs of socks—plus a few more pairs of underwear. He glanced over at Martha, who had just stood up and was smoothing out her nightgown. She smiled at him.

“Do you need help picking out what to wear, sweetie?” she asked.

He frowned and shook his head. He already knew he wanted to wear the blue shirt. Red was his favorite color, but he did also like blue.

“Okay. I’ll go get dressed myself, and then we can make breakfast. I could use some help again, if you’re up for it?”

“’Kay,” he said, and that made her smile again.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay, sweetie?”

He nodded, and after she left the room, he reached into the drawer, pulled out the shirt, a pair of pants, and a pair of underwear, and then carefully walked down the hallway and to the bathroom. A few minutes later, after he’d relieved himself, washed his hands, and changed into his clean clothes, he slowly opened the bathroom door and looked out down the hallway toward the kitchen. He could hear quiet voices—one a bit deeper than the other—and he realized Jonathan must be in there with Martha now. And they were probably waiting for him.

Quietly, he tiptoed down the hallway and then peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Martha and Jonathan stood together in the kitchen, hugging and talking quietly. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, it sounded…serious. Sort of. They weren’t yelling or arguing, but they were talking in low voices that were…strained. He shook his head and scooted back into the hallway, his heart starting to race.

They weren’t mad at him. He wasn’t in trouble. Martha had told him that a bunch of times already. But why were they being so quiet? There was something they didn’t want him to hear.

Maybe he should just go back to bed.

He scrunched his eyes shut and slumped down against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest and fighting against the feelings in his head telling him things that didn’t make sense. Why didn’t anything make any sense? Why…hadn’t he gotten in trouble? Why…

“Hey, sweetie. Is everything okay?” Martha’s kind voice came from just in front of him, and he swallowed hard, wanting to just say he was fine. But he…really wasn’t sure.

“I-I don’t know,” he said quietly. He felt her warmth shift closer until he was sure she was sitting next to him, and he closed his eyes tighter. “I don’t know wh-why…”

“Why what, sweetie?”

He flinched slightly as her hand set lightly on his back, but then he immediately felt the same thing he’d felt so many times now since coming here to Martha and Jonathan’s house—that sense of…safety? Holding his breath, he turned and leaned into her, hoping to feel it more. And he did. She slid her arm around his shoulders and gathered him up in her arms in another one of those hugs that just felt so right.

But his head hurt a little as he tried to think. Part of him—a very small part—wanted to know that big…why. He curled up against her and mustered up all the courage he possibly could.

“Why…why…” But he couldn’t get the words out. They wouldn’t form or…whatever it was that words did. He growled a little and brought his hands to his head, as though that would make something better. But of course it didn’t.

“Sweetie, shh, it’s okay,” Martha murmured, so gentle and nice. She rubbed his back again as she held him, and he started crying, unable to stop himself. And maybe he didn’t even want to try.

“Why are you nice to me?” he blurted out, still crying as he clung onto her. “Ma and Pa said s-said that—that—that—that—” He shook his head and buried his face into her shoulder as he got stuck on the words again. Dumb words. Dumb brain that wouldn’t say what he wanted.

Dumb him. It was a bad decision, to try to ask the question anyway. Trying to ask why she and Jonathan were so nice when Ma and Pa had said no one would be nice to him. Trying to ask why there weren’t any punishments for all the bad things he’d done. Trying to ask…why he hadn’t been sent to his room or to the basement or…?

He should have known better. He did know better.

He sobbed, half expecting this to be it, to be when her voice would get mean and angry, and Jonathan might step in to show Clark what the consequences were for everything he’d done wrong so far.

But that didn’t happen. The opposite happened. She continued to rub his back, soothing and calm, and she talked to him quietly, her words gentle and soft.

“Shh, everything’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay. You’re okay,” she said.

And when his crying slowed and then stopped, she kissed the top of his head and held him just a little tighter, which made him feel even better, somehow.

He hiccupped and wiped the tears from his cheeks, but didn’t otherwise move.

“You asked me why I’m so nice to you?” she said after another moment. He nodded, and he heard her breath catch, which only confused him more. “Oh, sweetie…” Then he heard her sniffle.

Had he made her cry again?

“Clark, sweetie, I care about you. A lot. I want to be sure that you’re comfortable and feel safe and at home here. I want to be sure that you…” Martha paused, and Clark tensed up as he heard Jonathan’s footsteps approach slowly. They stopped, and Martha exhaled quietly and then continued, her voice still gentle and kind. “I want to be sure you’re taken care of—that you have enough to eat and good clothes to wear, and that you get enough sleep. I want you to find things that you enjoy, and I want you to grow and learn. I want you to know that you’re a beautiful, wonderful, sweet child and that you deserve all of this. You deserve to be treated with kindness, sweetie.”

Everything she said didn’t make any sense, and his head hurt even more. But he felt a lot more comfortable in her arms than not, and so he just stayed right where he was. She didn’t move either, except to start rocking him gently.

He really liked that.

After another moment, Clark heard Jonathan clear his throat quietly. “Martha, should I go start breakfast?”

“Hmm.” Martha kissed the top of his head again. “Clark, sweetie, did you want to help me cook again? You were so wonderful as my helper yesterday. But if you want, we can just stay here for a bit more, and Jonathan can get breakfast cooking.”

He didn’t know. So he didn’t move, still, and he didn’t answer.

“It’s okay, sweet child.” She started rubbing his back again. “It’s okay… Jon…?”

“French toast—my aunt Sue’s recipe?”

“Yeah. All the ingredients are out on the counter already.”

“Got it.”

Footsteps sounded again, this time moving out of the hallway and back to the kitchen. And Clark wrapped his arms around Martha’s neck and started crying again, though he really wasn’t sure why.

***


He was so full again. And he had another new favorite food—French toast topped with strawberries and something Martha had called powdered sugar. It was even more yummy than the pancake he’d had the day before. But he hadn’t even been able to finish, because he’d gotten so full.

He also had two new books to read! After breakfast, Jonathan had taken him into the living room and shown him. One was a book about a big red puppy that went on adventures with his owner, and the other was a book about dinosaurs. The dinosaur one looked like it had a lot of really big, long words in it, and Jonathan had even said it might be hard for him to read.

Clark sat on the couch, alternately staring at the two books in his lap and glancing out the window to see if Jonathan was headed back in from the barn yet. He’d said he had to check on something and that he’d be right back. And when he got back, he’d read the books—both of them!—to Clark.

“Hey, sweetie,” Martha said from behind him, and Clark turned quickly, startled. Martha smiled when his eyes met hers. “I have a few more chores to do. Are you okay here? Just waiting for Jonathan?”

His stomach seemed to lurch a bit.

“You know your chores. Those windows better be spotless today. Get it all done, or else!”

Or else. Or else.

“D-do you… Can I-I h-help you?”

Martha’s smile softened. “I appreciate the offer, sweetie, but I can handle everything today. I just need to sweep and vacuum and start some laundry. Then, I’m hoping maybe we can color again, or maybe play a game.”

“’Kay,” he mumbled, turning to look at the books in his hands again. He expected Martha to leave, so he could continue waiting for Jonathan. But he heard her footsteps approach until they stopped right behind him at the couch.

“Oh, I know that book, about the puppy,” she said, and she came around the side of the couch and then sat down next to him. He moved closer automatically, scooting up against her like he had yesterday when she’d been reading to him. And she settled her arm around his shoulders.

He looked up at her and smiled. Then he looked back down at the book. “I-I w-want to—to read it. But J-Jonathan said he’d be back to—to help me.”

“Perfect. We can still look at it while we wait for him, though. Yeah?” Martha squeezed his shoulders gently, and the icky feeling in his stomach went away as he nodded.

“I-I think I—” He slowly reached up and pointed to the title of the book. He’d been thinking about it and trying to remember everything from the day before. And he was kinda a little sure, maybe, that he might know a few of the words.

“Do you know the words, sweetie?”

Clark pursed his lips and then glanced at her again. “M-maybe.” He lowered his eyes back to the book. “I don’t know…this, um, this f-first word, but I think this is ‘the Big Red Dog’?” He said the words slowly, pointing to each word as he spoke. And when he finished, he looked up at Martha, unsure what he’d find.

Her eyes were closed, but her lips still smiled, and he smiled too as he saw her nod softly. “That’s absolutely right, Clark. You’re—you’re amazing, sweetie.”

When she opened her eyes and looked down at him, a flush of warmth spread through his chest, and he smiled even bigger.

“Wh-what’s the first word?” he asked. He heard the front door open, and his eyes darted up to where Jonathan entered the house, slipping off his coat.

“What do we have here? Ready to get reading, are we, Clark?” Jonathan smiled too, and that also made Clark feel…something big and bright. He nodded, a bit more enthusiastically this time.

“Yes!”

“Clark is already getting started, Jon,” Martha said. “He can read most of the title already.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jonathan moved across the room and then took a seat on the other side of Clark.

“I can! Except the first word, I…” Clark frowned and looked down at the book again. “C-L-I…F-F-O-R-D?”

“Yes, those are the letters. Excellent job, sweetie!” Martha beamed. “That spells Clifford. That’s the dog’s name—Clifford.”

“Clifford the Big Red Dog?” Clark risked a quick glance up at Martha and then Jonathan, and he saw them both smiling and nodding.

“Impressive, buddy!” Jonathan scooted a little closer. “Now, should we see what wonderful adventures Clifford goes on? I don’t think I’ve read this one before. Have you, Martha?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Clark leaned into Martha a bit. “M-maybe…we can f-find out…together, then?” he said.

There was a very short moment of silence, and just when Clark started to worry that maybe he’d said something wrong, Jonathan answered quietly, “I think that’s a really great idea, buddy.”

He smiled again, feeling something he couldn’t quite put words to—but whatever it was, it felt good. Then, Clark snuggled up against Martha and opened the book up to the first page.



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Last edited by SuperBek; 08/31/25 08:47 PM.