When Sammy woke up from his nap he was hungry and frustrated because he was behind schedule. But at least he wasn’t as sleepy anymore. He brushed off some ants from the remaining crackers and stuffed them and the jalapeno candy into his backpack. After he searched for and found the discarded glass jars, he was pleased to find a few remaining drops of water. He was so thirsty. Sammy put on his shirt, zipped his backpack and started walking down the road. He’d have to make double time to get to the revival before it ended.
Raul and Gabriella searched the property, they both agreed something was wrong. Sammy wouldn’t just take off without telling her where he was going.
“I have an idea,” Raul said. “Stay by the phone.”
Raul intended to go to the one person who knew Samuél better than any person on earth. He slid behind the wheel of his battered truck and took off in haste down the road.
Gabriella went to Sammy’s room for the hundredth time since Raul left. She was frantic with worry. Where could he be? She should have stayed with him last night and talked to him about the things keeping him awake. But instead, she’d retreated from his hurt, leaving him to deal with things on his own. What kind of mother am I?
She entered his room, sat on his bed and looked around. His things lie scattered around his room in the manner of a boy who has much more important things on his mind than orderliness. His baseball mitt and ball were casually tossed into the corner, and she was startled to see Nicolas’ alongside Sammy’s. She hadn’t realized he’d kept it. Drawings of the rescue plans he and Juan Jose dreamed they would put into action once they found Juan Jose’s father covered his desk, and his rock collection lay forlornly on his shelf. Where was he?
Gabriella rose and began to pace. She felt a longing, an urge to call out to someone, but who? She knew Raul would do whatever necessary to bring Sammy home, so what was this prompting she felt? Who did she know who could help?
Sammy heard the shouts and the gunning of the loud engine before he saw the truck. He pulled the backpack up higher on his shoulders and began to walk a little faster. He’d listened to stories about bandidos along this lonely stretch of road, but had always chalked them up to Juan Jose’s vivid imagination. Now he wasn’t so sure.
The roar of the engine grew louder, and it sounded like it was just around the bend. To be safe, Sammy ducked behind one of the many patches of underbrush that lined the road. The truck rounded the corner.
Sammy jumped as the rowdy young men in the jacked up red truck hollered and threw a beer bottle out the window as they went racing by. It skidded and then shattered, leaving glittering pieces of glass fanned out across the road.
Once the truck was out of sight, Sammy emerged. The men had scared him, and for the first time since starting out, he considered retreating back to the safety of his house. But then he thought about the promise he’d made to his dad. No, I have to keep going. I’ll just have to be more careful. He continued on his way, this time keeping to the edge of the road, just in case the truck made another appearance.
Raul pulled up in front of Juan Jose’s house, and when he got out of the truck, the pungent smell of goat meat cooking over an open fire wafted around him. Juan Jose’s father, Rodolfo, had left his family a few years ago, telling them he was going to the United States to work so he could send them enough money to makes things easier for them, but he hadn’t been heard from since. Despite the talk in the village, Raul knew the man and he didn’t believe he would desert his family. Rodolfo was an honorable man, and he had spoken to Raul many times about his plans to make a better life for his wife and child. Since his disappearance, Juan Jose’s mamá, Rosa, had experienced declining health. Some people attributed it to heartbreak while others felt her increased responsibilities were taking their toll. It was common knowledge in the village that Rosa’s own father had left her and her mother in the same way, so most of the villagers were of the heartbreak opinion.
But either way, Rodolfo’s absence affected her ability to raise Juan Jose in the best manner. Raul, along with some of the other old-timers from the village, lent her a helping hand when they could, but it was never truly enough.
Raul made his way up the porch steps and knocked on the door. When Rosa opened it, Raul was startled by her appearance. She looked like a woman in desperate need of a break. He silently scolded himself for not helping out more and promised himself he’d do more in the future.
But first, he had to find Samuél.
“Buenos dias, Rosa.”
She smiled and pushed pack her limp hair. “Good morning, Raul,” she said in Spanish. “Please come inside for some coffee.”
He shook his head. “Gracias, but there’s no time this morning. I’m looking for Juan Jose.”
She eyed him carefully. “What has my son done, now?”
“Juan Jose hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m hoping he can tell me where to find Samuél.”
“Bueno.” She turned her head toward the inside of the house and yelled. “Juan Jose! Come quickly!”
Moments later, a scruffy faced Juan Jose appeared at the door. “Raul! Did you come to help repair the chicken coop?”
“No, not today. I’m looking for Samuél. He’s not at home, and his mother is worried. Have you seen him?”
Juan Jose looked at Rosa sheepishly, then back at Raul. “No, señor. I’m grounded, you see, so I’ve had no opportunity to see him.”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about that.” He turned toward Rosa. “While I’m here, would you mind if Juan Jose showed me what’s wrong with the coop? That way I’ll know what to bring for the repairs.”
As Raul and Juan Jose walked toward the coop, Raul put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Samuél’s mother is very worried. It’s not like him to take off like this without telling her where he’s going.”
“No, señor.”
“Are you sure you don’t know where he is?”
Juan Jose thought it would be pointless to pretend he hadn’t seen Samuél because Raul knew he snuck out of the house all the time to see his best friend. But he couldn’t betray his confidence, either. The revival meant everything to him. But Raul had always been good to him and his mother, and he didn’t want to lie to him. Frustrated, Juan Jose blurted out, “Please don’t make me tell Samuél’s secret. He’ll never forgive me!”
Relieved, Raul bent down so they were face to face. “I know you want to do the right thing, but Samuél could be in danger. His mother is sick with worry.”
Juan Jose looked at the ground, thought for a moment, and then looked up quickly, relief written all over his face. “I won’t tell. But you can ask me questions and it would be wrong of me to answer them with lies.”
Gabriella decided to bake orange glazed cinnamon rolls for Sammy’s return and now found herself up to her elbows in flour and bread dough. She’d been trying to get out her frustration by pounding on the dough but it wasn’t working. The nagging feeling that there was someone who could help wouldn’t let up, which frustrated her all the more.
She put the dough in a large bowl and covered it with a dish towel to give it time to rise. Next, she went to the pantry to get the powdered sugar and orange oil for the glaze. When she opened the cabinet door, she heard something flutter on the back shelf and jumped. “Oh no,” she muttered. “Not another mouse.”
She dragged a chair to the cabinet so she could get a closer look and peered into the dark cabinet. My gosh, she thought. I haven’t seen this in years. She moved aside various spices and cooking utensils and hesitantly pulled out what she’d found.
Nicolas’s Bible.
She let out her breath, stepped down from the chair, and sat down. She eyed the Bible suspiciously and looked toward the ceiling. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you? Fine. If you’re so all-knowing, tell me where my son is.”
She closed her eyes, threw open the Bible and pointed. Then she cautiously opened her eyes and read right where her finger lie.
“’They took him and explained to
him the way of God more accurately.’”
“Humph. Of course you don’t know.” She slammed the Bible shut and threw it aside. “Don’t be an idiot,” she scolded herself as she pulled down the powdered sugar. She glanced at the phone. Where was Raul?
Raul turned the ignition key and pointed his truck toward the road. It hadn’t taken too many questions to figure out Samuél had gone to the revival against his mother’s wishes. He was mad at himself for not figuring it out sooner. After all, Sammy had been reading the flyer in the grove only yesterday. Raul was both pleased and worried. Pleased that the boy taken an interest in the things of God—he’d felt a curiosity about it himself lately. But the isolated stretch of road leading to Principios was a dangerous one. Full of bandidos and wild dogs. Not a place for a sheltered young boy to be alone. Raul pushed down on the gas pedal and willed the truck to go faster.
Sammy heard two things at once: the roar of the menacing truck and a sweet music that sounded like it was coming from a loud speaker. The revival! He ducked behind some brush, but not before the truck came to a squealing halt.
“Gringo!” A drunken man called. “We can see you!”
Sammy, his heart thumping wildly in his ears, tore off down an overgrown dirt path that ran parallel to the road. He heard the truck doors slam and the men laughing and calling out to him. He ran with all his might. Before long, he had to drop his backpack because it was slowing him down by thumping so hard against his back. He stopped for a moment, bent over and tried to catch his breath. They were still back there. He could hear their ragged breathing as they tore through the brush. “God,” he whispered, “if you’re really up there, please don’t let them catch me.”
He saw a blur of black, one of the men’s T-shirts, coming directly at him. There was no way he could outrun all of them, so he quickly ducked under a thick patch of brush and crawled as far as he could into the briars. The thorns ripped and tore at his clothes and skin, and Sammy hoped his blue T-shirt wouldn’t give him away. When he reached what he thought was the center of the thicket, he curled himself up into a tight ball and waited.
Chapter 7
Inspirational Women's Fiction Sampler Page 9
