The Masterpiece

by Francine Rivers

“You’re still up.”

  “Not for long.”

  “I’m in my studio. If you’d invited Prince Charming in for the night, I wouldn’t be calling.”

  Grace gasped, cheeks on fire. “Were you watching us?”

  “I was curious what two Christians do at the end of a date.” He laughed low. “That kiss earned a G rating.”

  Grace ended the call. She’d turn the phone off completely if it wasn’t her only lifeline to Samuel in case of emergency. She put it on her nightstand and slipped into bed. Elvis sang again. She put a pillow over her head.

  BOBBY RAY, AGE 7

  Bobby Ray Dean awakened to the whoop of a police car siren and red lights flashing across the ceiling. He pulled the smelly blanket higher over his shoulders. Drowsy, he stared at the orange, red, and gold neon Jesus Saves across the street. Still cold, he cocooned into the worn cushions of the old sofa.

  Voices drifted from behind the bedroom door: a man, irritated; Mama cajoling. Bobby Ray knew that whenever a man came home from work with her, he had to leave the bed and sleep on the couch.

  Bobby Ray’s stomach growled. He’d found cereal in the cabinet to eat for supper, but no milk in the refrigerator. Other than the bottles Mama kept around for her guests, the cupboards were empty. He hoped Mama’s new friend would leave enough money to buy a few cans of Dinty Moore stew and Spam, maybe even some eggs and bread and milk. Most of what she earned went for the white powder that helped her forget everything and feel good until she had to get up and remember again.

  He could get something to fill his belly at the Salvation Army café, and he would get lunch at school for free. But that was hours away, and the only way to ease the pain now was to go back to sleep. It was hard with the lights flashing. He kept thinking about the grocery store. He’d managed to steal an apple once, but the next time he reached for a banana, the grocer grabbed his wrist and said unless Bobby Ray could show him a dollar, he’d better put the banana down. Bobby Ray kicked him and ran, the green banana still clutched in his hand. The grocer chased him two blocks before Bobby Ray managed to escape. He didn’t go by that store anymore.

  Mama stopped talking in the bedroom, and other sounds made Bobby Ray pull the foul-smelling blanket over his head and plug his ears. He might only be seven, but he knew what Mama let men do to her so she could pay the rent. At least this man had looked nice. The last one had knocked Bobby Ray across the room. Mama jumped on his back, and he hit her, too, and kicked her before he left.

  Sobbing, Mama had crawled to Bobby Ray and gathered him in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. How bad did he hurt you?” When she tipped his chin up, she cried harder. She told him to tell his teacher he’d fallen down the stairs by accident. “I don’t want CPS coming to take you away from me. We’d never see each other again.” The thought of being taken away from his mother had scared Bobby Ray more than the man who’d hurt him and Mama.

  Bobby Ray heard angry voices in the street below. Mama had told him never to look out because you never knew when people might start shooting. “Stay down and safe, baby.” Two men shouted. Glass shattered.

  Mama’s friend started talking in the bedroom. Mama laughed. “It’s no big deal. Lie down, honey. We were having such a good time. . . .” The man said he had to go. People might wonder where he was. More conversation, quieter now. The bedroom door opened, and the man came out, half-dressed. Mama followed in her pink robe. “Well, if you gotta go, you gotta go.” She flipped a switch, flooding the room with light.

  Mama’s friend had black shiny shoes and nice dark slacks, a glossy leather belt. He fumbled at the buttons on his white shirt. Catching Bobby Ray looking at him, he blushed deep red. “Sorry, kid.” The apology made Bobby Ray feel the hard punch of wrongness in everything about Mama’s life.

  Mama held the jacket for the man to slip on. When he had trouble with his tie, Mama brushed his hands away. “Let me do it for you.” She pouted prettily. “Fifty bucks doesn’t go very far these days. I barely make rent, and I have a growing boy to feed.” The man’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing tight. Mama sighed as she dusted his lapels. She stepped back. “What’d you have for dinner tonight, Bobby Ray?”

  “Cheerios.”

  “And you drank the last of the milk two days ago, didn’t you, baby? I’m sorry. Mama’s doing the best she can.”

  “Don’t you get welfare?”

  “Rent’s higher in the Tenderloin than in Wichita. But you’d know that, considering the hotel you’re staying in for your conference.”

  The man gave Bobby Ray an embarrassed look and pulled out his wallet. Bobby Ray noticed the gold ring on his finger as he chose some bills and thrust them into Mama’s outstretched palm. She kept her hand out, and he added one more before folding his wallet and tucking it away. He didn’t look happy. Mama smiled. “You have a good heart.” She sounded sincere. She went to the door, removed the chain, turned the two dead bolts, and opened it. “Be careful out there. You’re not in Kansas anymore.” She gave a soft laugh, as though she’d told a joke.

  The man looked unsettled. “I left my rental car near the club. I was a little drunk. How do I get back?”

  “Turn left, go two blocks, turn right. You’ll see the light.” Mama closed the door in his face. She turned both dead bolts and put the chain on again. Her smile died along with any hint of pleasure as she picked up the shoulder bag she’d tossed on the old orange recliner. She shoved the money into it and dropped it again. Yawning widely, she rubbed her back. “I need a long, hot shower. And then I’m going to sleep until noon.” She leaned down and kissed Bobby Ray. “You get yourself up and ready for school, sweetie.” She went into the bathroom.

  Bobby Ray did what he had to do. He stole a twenty-dollar bill from Mama’s purse.

  As soon as school let out, Bobby Ray headed for CVS and pushed a cart bigger than him up and down the aisles. Everything cost so much! He decided on a jar of Smucker’s Goober peanut butter and grape jelly stripes, a loaf of Wonder Bread, a box of twelve crayons, a package of four Ticonderoga pencils with a small sharpener, and a lined notebook on sale for a dollar. Maybe Mama had gone shopping with the rest of the money the man had given her last night. Maybe there’d be milk in the refrigerator and cereal in the cabinet.

  Mama was up and dressed for bear, as she put it. She was happy, too, which meant she had another supply of white powder. “So what did you buy with the twenty bucks you took, baby?” She took the plastic bag from him and emptied it on the table while Bobby Ray looked in the refrigerator. No milk. “Sorry, honey. I haven’t had time to go shopping. I had to make myself presentable. Tell you what! I’ll find some nice man to take me to dinner at a fancy restaurant and bring you a doggie bag.” She laughed. “Alioto’s! How’s that sound? Or the Franciscan! I’ll order lobster!”

  “You want a sandwich, Mama?” Bobby Ray didn’t want her to leave. “I’ll make it for you.” When she was happy like this, she stayed out all night.

  “No, baby. That’s all for you.” She looped her large bag over her shoulder and headed out. “Lock the door after I leave.”

  Bobby Ray hated it when his mother left high and happy. The last time she did, when she came back, she’d cried all the next day and had to put on lots of makeup to cover bruises before going to work at the club. “Don’t go. Please?” His lip quivered, and he let the tears come, hoping they’d make a difference.

  Mama came back, anguished. “Oh, honey, you know I’ve gotta go. Mama does so much better when she’s had something to help. You know? I’m doing the best I can. Sometimes I . . .” She shook her head, her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, Bobby Ray.” She leaned down and cupped his face. “You know I love you more than anything in this whole world. I’m gonna take good care of you, baby. You wait and see.”

  “Mama . . .” He hugged her tightly. She was soft and smelled of sweet perfume. He clung to her like ivy on a brick wall.

  “Let go.” Mama pried his arms lo
ose and held him firmly at arm’s length. “Stop it right now! You know I’m gonna come back. Don’t I always? Now be good. Stay inside. Lock the door. You can watch TV as late as you want.” She left without looking back again.

  Bobby Ray went to the window and tried to open it. He fought the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. Mama appeared on the street below. He knocked on the glass, but she didn’t look up. She walked like she knew exactly where she was going. He wished he knew where that was.

  He opened the box of pristine crayons and drew on a page of newsprint. He ate a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. When the sun went down, he watched TV. Worried, he dragged a kitchen chair to the window and sat watching for Mama to come home. The neon sign came on across the street. He wondered who Jesus was. Mama said her daddy had been religious and tried to beat hell out of her. Bobby Ray made a pillow of his arms and focused on the beauty of those intense, rich colors.

  Boyish laughter awakened him. A teenager dressed in black was spray-painting the wall across the street. Another was standing guard at the corner. Bobby Ray listened and watched as the painter opened a backpack and pulled out another can, yellow this time, green the next. The lookout motioned him to hurry up. The painter worked fast, making large bubble letters. Bobby Ray was enthralled. The teen at the corner whistled. The painter stashed his spray paint, shouldered his bag, and disappeared around the corner just as a police car came to the intersection. The squad car paused, a beam of light searching and finding the newly painted wall. The police car turned in the direction the boys had run, the beam of light waving from one side of the street to the other.

  Giving up his vigil, Bobby Ray climbed into the bed he shared with Mama. He curled into a ball on Mama’s side. She’d wake him up when she got home. Maybe she’d bring another man home with her, a nice one like the last, one willing to hand over an extra twenty. He slept fitfully.

  Mama still wasn’t home the next morning. Bobby Ray didn’t know whether to go to school or wait. Scared and angry, he grabbed his books and headed down the stairs.

  Mr. Salvaggio came out of his apartment looking like a pumpkin in his Giants sweatshirt. “Hey! Where’s that mother of yours? She owes me rent!” Bobby Ray darted around him. “Hey! I’m talking to you, kid!” Mr. Salvaggio made a swipe for him, but Bobby Ray ran quick as a rat for the front door.

  “Sheila!” Mr. Salvaggio shouted up the stairs. “You better pay up or my cousin Guido and I are gonna put you out on the street for good. You hear me?”

  Frightened and wondering what would happen if Mama didn’t have any money when she got home, Bobby Ray went to the nightclub where Mama worked. He slipped in a side door while a delivery was being unloaded. It was dimly lit inside. The place smelled bad. A man in shirtsleeves and a loosened tie signed paperwork on a clipboard and handed it to the uniformed truck driver. Opening a box, he pulled out a bottle and then spotted Bobby Ray. “What’re you doing in here?” He jerked his chin. “Get out of here, kid! You trying to get me shut down?”

  Bobby Ray stood his ground as the man came toward him. “I’m looking for my mother.” His voice quavered.

  “How would I know who your mother is?” The man grabbed him by the shoulder and thrust him toward the door. “Get outta here and stay out!”

  Fighting tears, Bobby Ray stayed inside. “Her name’s Sheila Dean. She works here.”

  The man spit out a foul word. “I didn’t know Sheila had a kid. I’d like to know where she is, too. She was supposed to dance last night and didn’t bother showing up.”

  Bobby Ray didn’t know where else to look and didn’t want to go back to the apartment house and risk getting grabbed by Mr. Salvaggio. So he went to school. Class had already started, so he had to sneak into the room when Mr. Talbot wasn’t looking and slip into his seat, hoping no one would say anything. No one did, but Mr. Talbot looked from Bobby Ray to the wall clock and then went back to explaining an arithmetic problem he’d written on the chalkboard. At least Mr. Talbot didn’t send him to the office for a tardy slip. He would have had to make up a lie for the school secretary.

  The classroom was warmer than the apartment, and Bobby Ray fought to keep his eyes open. He tried to make sense of the arithmetic problems on the paper Mr. Talbot handed out. His stomach hurt. He put his head in his arms.

  The bell startled him awake. He hadn’t finished the assignment. Kids headed out to recess. Mr. Talbot stood beside his desk. “Everything all right, Bobby Ray?”

  Bobby Ray said everything was fine. At lunch, he ate only half of his sandwich, keeping the rest, worried he might not have anything to eat later.

  When school let out, Bobby Ray ran all the way home. The apartment was unlocked. Heart leaping with hope, Bobby Ray ran to the bedroom, expecting to see Mama asleep. She wasn’t there. When he came out, he saw the empty space where the television had been. Had burglars come in or had Mr. Salvaggio taken the only thing of any value in the apartment? Bobby Ray was afraid to go downstairs and ask. Instead, he went out again and searched the neighborhood for Mama.

  The liquor store owner said he hadn’t seen Sheila Dean in three days. Bobby Ray walked until Turk Street ran into Market, then followed Market to Grant. He came up to Geary and walked around Union Square, then on down past the Curran Theater until he came to Leavenworth and headed down to Turk again. It was dark by the time he got home. The apartment lights were off and didn’t come on when he flipped the switch. Mama still wasn’t home.

  Exhausted, hungry, and afraid, Bobby Ray sat on the old sofa. What should he do now? Where should he look? Mama always came home by morning. Why hadn’t she returned?

  Bobby Ray stretched the Smucker’s Goober PB and J and the Wonder Bread for three days. He still had a couple of dollars in his pocket, but he was afraid to spend it.

  Mr. Talbot asked him again if everything was all right, and Bobby Ray said yes again, throwing a little attitude to make it sound true. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “Because you’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days.”

  “Mama hasn’t gotten around to doing the laundry. Okay?”

  “All right, but where is your homework? You always do your homework, and you haven’t turned anything in for two days. And you’re not finishing what I’m giving you in class. That’s not like you, Bobby Ray. What’s going on?”

  “I just forgot. That’s all. I’ll do it. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

  He had to fight hard not to cry when Mr. Talbot put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’d tell me if you needed help, wouldn’t you?”

  Bobby Ray bought a banana and a Snickers bar on the way home. He worked on homework at the kitchen table. Someone knocked on the door, and Bobby Ray’s heart picked up speed. He tiptoed over and peered through the peephole. Mr. Talbot stood outside the door. He rapped again. “Mrs. Dean? Bobby Ray?” His teacher knocked again, louder this time. A man’s voice rumbled from below. Mr. Talbot said he was checking on a student. He left the doorway, and Bobby Ray couldn’t see him anymore. What was Mr. Salvaggio saying to him?

  Bobby Ray worried about that visit. He tried to concentrate on his homework and finish everything he was supposed to. He took a shower, washed his hair, and brushed his teeth, hoping Mama would open the bathroom door and tell him he was taking too long.

  He wore different clothes the next morning. Mr. Talbot looked him over and didn’t say anything. Bobby Ray’s stomach growled so loud the students around him laughed. Face hot, he kept his head down while Mr. Talbot called them all to order and went on with the lesson.

  When Bobby Ray got home from school, Mr. Salvaggio was in the entry hall near the mailboxes with a man Bobby Ray didn’t recognize. Mr. Salvaggio nodded at Bobby Ray. “He’s the one. Nobody’ll miss him.” The man slipped a wad of folded bills into Mr. Salvaggio’s fat fingers as Bobby Ray ran up the stairs.

  The door was open this time. “Mama!” Relief surged until he saw the empty living room. All the furniture was gone. “Mama!” He ran
for the bedroom. Not finding her there, he came out again, confused. The apartment was empty, except for a couple of boxes of Mama’s clothes in the middle of the room.

  The man who’d been with Mr. Salvaggio came into the apartment. “You’re coming with me, kid.”

  Bobby Ray backed away. “My mother’s coming home.”

  “When was the last time you saw your mother? Four days ago, from what I hear. She’s gone. I’m gonna take care of you.” When Bobby Ray tried to dart past him to the door, the man caught him by the arm. When Bobby Ray fought and screamed, the man clapped a hard hand over his mouth. Bobby Ray bit him. The man backhanded him so hard, Bobby Ray saw yellow and black spots before being tossed over the man’s shoulder and carried out of the apartment, his legs trapped against the man’s rock-hard chest.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Bobby Ray heard his teacher’s voice coming from the landing below. Pounding the stranger’s back, Bobby Ray screamed for help. “Put that boy down!” Another man was asking for ID. Bobby Ray felt himself dumped. He bounced down half a dozen steps before someone caught hold of him. “I’ve got you.”

  Mr. Talbot held him while a police officer went up the stairs, talking fast into a small radio mounted on a shoulder harness. “Six foot, 190, white, dark hair cropped short, brown bomber jacket, Levi’s, and black boots . . .”

  Mr. Talbot asked Bobby Ray if he was hurt. He hurt everywhere. Mr. Talbot lifted him onto his lap and held him close. “It’s okay, Bobby Ray. We’re here to help.” Sobbing, Bobby Ray pressed into his teacher’s arms, his heart still pounding in fear. “Who was that man? Anyone you know?” Bobby Ray had never seen him before. “Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know.” He hiccuped. “She promised she’d come back. She always comes back.” When asked how long ago she’d left, Bobby Ray scrubbed at his eyes and tried to think. He didn’t want to say five days. “I did my homework.”

  Mr. Talbot’s eyes moistened. “Don’t worry about that now. Don’t worry about anything. Okay? We’re going to get you help.” The police officer came back down the stairs. The man had gotten away. Mr. Talbot sat in the backseat of the squad car with Bobby Ray and said everything was going to be okay. The police officer talked into his radio.