Crossroads

by Tracie Peterson

  Leslie nodded. “And he’s finally getting it. I think once I told my pastor what we were up against, he understood that Travis wasn’t getting any better. Now we’re getting counseling but it’s like taking five steps back for every one we take forward. Travis hates talking to anyone, but he really hates it when the counselor wants to send me from the room so that he can talk to Travis alone. Travis has developed this real phobia about letting me out of his sight. He has our aunt call down here several times a night, all in order to make sure I haven’t been killed.”

  Darrin frowned. “Do you feel confident about the counselor? I mean, is he qualified to deal with this kind of thing?”

  “Oh, definitely,” Leslie said, pausing to sip her coffee. “He’s a Christian who specializes in dealing with children, and he centers his advice and counseling on the Bible. Of course, he doesn’t just sit there and spout Bible verses. After all, Travis is only five.”

  “I don’t think it helps adults to just sit and spout verse, as you say, either.” Darrin seemed to search for the right words. “I mean . . . it’s just that . . . well, the verses are great, but too often I think people are in the habit of throwing them out like coins. They see someone in need and say, “Well, here’s a verse, now get over your problem and go on with life.”

  Leslie nodded. “Oh, I quite agree. I think there are a great many Christians who have focused on memorizing the words, but not the application behind those words. I’ve been quoted at many a time, but once in particular I remember asking the woman, what she meant by suggesting that particular verse, and she couldn’t really explain it.”

  “I’ve been there, too. When my mother died from cancer, I can’t tell you the number of people that came forward to say, ‘Remember Roman’s 8:28. All things work together for good, to them that love the Lord.”

  Leslie smiled. “I’ve heard that more times than I care to remember.” She put down her mug. “And, it isn’t because I don’t believe that, because I do. I believe that God is in everything. I believe that He alone holds the answers to the questions in my heart. But it doesn’t make my pain any less to know that He has worked this all out for a purpose and reason. I’m glad God’s in the details, but I still hurt, and He knows that.”

  Darrin looked at her strangely for a moment. “Yet, you find your comfort in Him, don’t you?”

  She felt a tingling run down her arms. The way he looked at her was so startling, almost as if he could see inside her soul and find the answer for himself. “Yes, I do,” she murmured. “And I find real comfort in His Word. Just as those people who throw out verses without application have sometimes left me frustrated and numb, I’ve been blessed by a handful of others who have brought genuine direction into my life by sharing Scripture. Just the other day, for example.” She paused, looking at Darrin as if to weigh whether or not he really wanted to hear this.

  “Go on,” he urged without hesitation.

  Leslie felt suddenly self-conscious. She glanced around the shop to see if she’d neglected anyone. No one seemed to care that she stood in discussion with one of the customers. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her nerves. “Well, a good friend shared some verses with me from 2 Corinthians 4. I was so moved that I memorized the words, and every day I’ve used them to strengthen my heart. Not because she threw them out at me and left me to consider them. But because she shared them with me and told me how they applied to her life and how she felt they would apply to my life, as well. Then she prayed with me and even cried with me. It made all the difference in the world.”

  “And what were the verses?” he asked softly.

  Leslie closed her eyes. “‘We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body.’”

  Leslie opened her eyes and found Darrin’s blue eyes filled with tears. She lowered her gaze and continued. “It meant so much to hear those words and to know that God knew we would have moments of overwhelming heartache and misery, but that we wouldn’t be left to bear it alone. That, in fact, it had already been carried to Calvary by His Son Jesus.

  “I looked at those verses over and over, and I can still hear the voice of my friend as she shared losing her husband in a plane crash. She told me that she felt so abandoned after his death, but here was proof that she wasn’t. She felt completely crushed, crushed in ways that she couldn’t begin to explain. Yet here were words that addressed her very feelings, and in that she began to heal, to see that while she was hard-pressed, she wasn’t truly crushed. And that while she felt destroyed, in truth she was only struck down for a time.”

  “She finished up by sharing the very last verses in that chapter, and I’ll never forget the love in her voice as she promised me that she knew the truth of those words: ‘For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

  “That’s good advice,” Darrin said, pulling out his handkerchief.

  He wiped his eyes unashamedly and smiled at Leslie in such a way that she had to swallow her heart to keep it from leaping out of her throat. Who was this man, and why did he affect her the way he did?

  The couple at the corner table was getting up to leave, and instantly Leslie felt the spell of the moment broken by their activity. She picked up her cloth from the bleach water and grabbed a tray. “Work calls,” she told Darrin as evenly as she could manage.

  It wasn’t until she was bent over the table and reaching for the couple’s empty mugs that she saw how her hands were shaking. A strange feeling washed over her as a thought came unbidden to her mind. Darrin was a remarkable man, and he alone was responsible for these feelings. But what were these feelings? Leslie wondered. Was this what it was like to fall in love?

  She wiped the table and came back to the counter, where Darrin sat with a distant look on his face. Apparently he isn’t moved to ask the same questions of himself, she thought sadly.

  Pushing down her emotions, Leslie nodded to the clock. “I’m afraid it’s closing time.”

  Darrin nodded and put twenty dollars on the counter. “Thanks for the conversation and for the Scripture. I’m going to check it out when I get home.” He left her then, and Leslie watched after him until he had disappeared from view.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered to the empty room and added, “Anytime.”

  TEN

  After locking the entrance to Crossroads, Leslie turned the knob and pushed, just to make sure. It was an old habit, but she was sure it had its merits. As she hurriedly walked to her parked car, she felt drawn to look at the stars. It was something she hadn’t done for years. Remembering her father, she felt tears sting her eyes. Aaron Heyward was the first person to take the time to introduce Leslie to the sky. He pointed out constellations and planets and was always patient and understanding when her eyes were too untrained to pick out the patterns. Now that she was a grown woman, the sky was no less magical and no less wonderful. And it served as yet another example of how much her parents had given her.

  It wasn’t until she started her car that she realized what time it was. Ten till one. Not too terribly late, but late, nonetheless. She had called Margie around eleven-thirty to tell her that it was a possibility and not to wait up, but no doubt Travis would be waiting. At least nothing had gone wrong tonight. Perhaps that would ease his mind.

  Leslie drove carefully down the hill, taking extra care at the Kentucky Street intersection. Within minutes, she was in the driveway of her home. She quickly gathered her purse and gloves and made her way to the door. Upon entering the warmth of the living room, Leslie was surprised to find neither a distra
ught Travis nor Aunt Margie. Relief washed over her. Maybe they had gone to bed early. This was definitely a good sign.

  Wrestling with her coat, scarf, and purse, Leslie found a note taped to the closet door. “We went to bed early – see you in the morning. Margie.”

  Smiling, she placed her coat in the hall closet and set her boots by the front door. The note said “we went to bed early.” That would have to imply that Travis was feeling a little better. At least he wasn’t panicked about Leslie getting home. “Thank you, God,” she whispered.

  For a moment, she just enjoyed the silence of the night. An image of Darrin filtered into her head. She’d really like to know him better. He appeared to be a Christian and enjoy discussions that focused on spiritual matters. He also seemed to genuinely care about the things she told him. Maybe it was just her imagination, but for some reason Leslie got the distinct impression he cared about her. Almost as though she’d known him all her life.

  She put such thoughts aside. Her mind was too tired to think about anything more than a hot shower and a soft bed, and there would always be tomorrow to dream about the illustrious Mr. . . .Mr. Who? He’d only told her that his name was Darrin.

  She pondered the matter only as long as it took to step into the shower. Exhaustion swept over her like the steaming water and lulled her into a state of relaxed disregard. She would let all her worries and troubles wash from her and go down the drain.

  Her mother had given her this analogy when she had been a teenager. She could still hear her saying, “Leslie, God tells us to cast all our cares on Him, because He cares for us. When you step into a shower after a hot, dirty game of fast-pitch, you let the dirt and grime wash down the drain without ever desiring to have it back. Just do the same with worry and concern.”

  “I’m trying, Mama,” she whispered, spying the drain with a smile. “I’m trying.”

  After washing her hair and preparing for bed, she stopped by Travis’s room. She could see his still form snuggled under his blankets. The peaceful slumber of his body gave Leslie reason to hope. He didn’t thrash about or moan as he usually did during the night. Perhaps tonight there were no nightmares. Perhaps tonight he knew peace. This convinced her not to disturb him. He needed his rest. So did she. Whispering a short prayer for him, Leslie turned and made her way to her own bed.

  The next morning, Leslie awoke slowly. The house was totally quiet and peaceful. Closing her eyes tightly, she stretched out her refreshed body under the warmth of her comforter. For a moment, she debated whether or not she should drift back to sleep and enjoy one of the few peaceful times in her hectic life. No, she decided. It would be better to enjoy this time with coffee and conversation. She and Margie seldom had any real time to talk, and Leslie could think of a great many things they needed to discuss. Then, too, maybe Travis would be somewhat recovered, given his early bedtime and uninterrupted slumber. Optimistic thoughts surged through Leslie, urging her out of bed and into her robe.

  Leslie hummed as she filled the coffee filter and placed I tin the basket of the coffee maker. Maybe she should run down to Joe’s Bakery and surprise Margie and Travis with fresh doughnuts. Travis loved it when the glazed doughnuts were warm from the oven and the glaze was still drippy. Her parents had always indulged his love of the sticky pastry, even though cleaning him up was quite a chore. Leslie had always been fond of their baked cinnamon rolls, while her mother had adored the cream puffs. Leslie’s father, however, had no favorites. If it was from Joe’s, he ate it.

  She smiled as she recalled the mornings when her mother would sneak down to the tiny bakery before anyone had awakened. The family would gather in the kitchen and laugh as they ate and drank, enjoying each other’s company. How she longed for those mornings again!

  Margie padded into the kitchen, still half asleep. She seemed to be guided by the aroma of fresh coffee. “Good morning,” she mumbled. “How was work last night?”

  “Oh, it went all right. I was glad that I called you, though. I didn’t get home until almost one.” Leslie handed her aunt a porcelain mug and retrieved one for herself. She filled each with coffee and replaced the pot on the heater. “I was so surprised not to find you or Travis waiting up for me. I hope this means he’s getting better.”

  Margie sipped her coffee and nodded. “It was odd, but he asked if he could go to sleep in my bed for a while. I guess that was around ten-thirty or so, I was exhausted, so the prospect of an early bedtime thrilled me to pieces. He wasn’t with me this morning, so I assumed he woke up and went back to his own bed. Isn’t he up yet?”

  “Nope. I was thinking about going down to Joe’s and bringing him some of those fresh glazed doughnuts that he likes so much. I was afraid to just leave without someone being up for him, though. It is odd that he’s not around. It’s almost eight-fifteen.” Leslie poured herself more coffee and sat down at the table with Margie.

  “Well, you could check on him, but let him sleep. His body and mind are so exhausted. Maybe this is the best thing for him.”

  “I’d better get around so I can make it to Joe’s before they get cleaned out by the morning rush. I’ll check on Travis first, though. He seemed so peaceful last night that I didn’t bother him. Apparently he went back to his bed before I got home,” she said, emptying her mug. An unwelcome thought suddenly came to mind. “He didn’t seem sick to you last night, did he? I never even thought that he might have a fever or. . .” Her words trailed off as she got to her feet. Motherhood was so new to her that she felt suddenly quite incompetent.

  Margie shook her head. “No, he seemed fine. Just very set on going to bed early. I’m sure he’s okay, Les. He’s just a very tired little boy.”

  Leslie relaxed and nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t want to overlook anything.”

  “You’re doing a good job, Leslie. I can’t imagine how you could do anything better. Your mom and dad would be proud of you, and so am I.”

  “Thanks,” Leslie said, feeling bittersweet love in the praise. She yawned, stretched, then got to her feet. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  Upstairs, she selected a pastel blue sweater from her closet and a heavy pair of jeans. Maybe she’d convince Travis to take another walk to the cemetery with her. They’d gone twice before, and both times he seemed to find comfort in the visits. After pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, she put on a pair of thick wool boot socks and went to check on her brother.

  Tiptoeing into the small boy’s room, Leslie noted that he was still in the same position he’d been in the night before. His body lay completely hidden deep within his covers. Even his head was snuggled under his blankets. She approached the bed and ran a hand along the child’s still form and felt goose bumps line her arm.

  It didn’t feel like Travis. In fact, it didn’t feel like anyone. She felt no contour of his body, no arms or legs. Panicked, she turned down the comforter and saw nothing but a pillow. Frantically, she pulled the blankets from the bed, revealing a network of pillows but no Travis.

  “Margie!” Leslie screamed. Looking around the room, she noticed several things missing.

  The book bag he used on long car trips to fill with toys and picture books.

  His favorite teddy bear. It wasn’t in his bed or on the floor, like it normally was.

  His coat. It was supposed to be hanging on his closet door knob. It was gone as well. “Margie, come quick!”

  Leslie felt the room begin to spin. Where was he? Maybe he was just hiding. Yes, that was it. He was pretending to camp out somewhere in the house like he had done before he had become so withdrawn. Maybe he was in the basement or maybe he was in his parents’ bedroom.

  “Travis? Travis, answer me! Where are you?” Leslie ran out of the room, nearly flattening Margie against the wall.

  “What’s wrong, Leslie? What’s wrong with Travis?” Margie’s face was pale.

  “He’s gone! I don’t know where he is. Oh, Margie. Maybe he’s playing that camping game that he and Da
d used to play. You know, where he sleeps somewhere in the house and camps out? He’s got to be here somewhere. Help me find him!” Leslie tore from room to room, calling his name. “Travis! Travis, honey, please tell Sissy where you are! You’re scaring Sissy.”

  Margie began searching in the opposite direction, but found nothing. Leslie continued yelling and exploring the house. “Travis!” She had checked everywhere. The basement, the bathrooms, the pantry, the closets. Nothing. Travis was nowhere to be found. “Travis, oh, Travis, where are you?”

  Suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulders, gently shaking her. “Leslie, calm down.” For the first time, Leslie realized she was sobbing hysterically. What she perceived to be calls to Travis were incoherent screams, reverberating through the empty house. Margie’s strong grip guided her back into the kitchen and to the table. “Leslie, stop crying. We need to think.”

  After being handed another cup of coffee, Leslie quieted herself and concentrated on swallowing the hot liquid. Margie patiently waited for her niece’s nerves to come under control.

  “Now, what we need to do is call the police, and then the neighbors. Maybe he went over to play with the twins without asking. Maybe he’s just testing us. It may not be as bad as we think.” Leslie nodded like a frightened child. Margie rose to retrieve the telephone and dialed the police department.

  “Yes, I’d like to report a missing child,” At this, Leslie began to cry anew, but a sharp look from Margie stifled her sobs.

  “My name is Margie Dover. My nephew is missing.” Pause. “No, we’re not sure how long he’s been gone. “ Again a lengthy pause filled the air with silence. “Five years old,” Margie replied into the receiver. “Please, can you send someone over right away?” Margie waited for a moment and then recited the address. “We’ll be watching for you. Thank you.” She returned the telephone to the cradle and looked over to Leslie.

  “They’re sending someone over right this minute. It’s going to be okay, Les. We’ll find him.”